First and Last
by riemayu
Summary: Post TDK - As children, Bruce and Charlotte Porter were good friends until one day, that changed. Now, they haven't spoken to each other in many years, until they're set up. After discovering that Charlotte may be in danger, he must reconcile with her; a woman who doesn't trust him. Bruce/OC
1. Chapter 1

First And Last

by RieMayu

_A/N - Now I know this may seem like a long chapter to start off. I didn't know how far to go with it to start. I already have the first few chapters complete and ready to upload in the next few days if this story is well received. _

_Please review!_

* * *

_21 years ago_

The car ride was spent in silence. Madelyn was desperate and she hoped that this trip outside of the city would be just the thing to help Charlotte. The 10 year old hadn't spoken much since she had moved to Gotham to live with her grandmother, Madelyn. Charlotte had endured a lot in such a short time for someone so young. It broke Madelyn's heart to watch her not only lose both her parents but also the only life she had ever known.

"You'll like them," Madelyn said, breaking the silence as she looked in the mirror at Charlotte sitting in the backseat. Charlotte kept her eyes on the scenery that passed by them. "Bruce is your age, maybe a year older."

Still, the girl didn't respond.

With a soft weary sigh, Madelyn turned the car off the road and through the front gate onto the Wayne manor property.

As disinterested as Charlotte appeared to be, she couldn't help but stare at the large house that loomed ahead of them. Her grandmother had told her that it was larger than her own estate, but she had never imagined it to be like this.

They passed rows of large oak trees, filled with leaves that moved in the warm breeze. If the car window was open, she would have certainly heard the chorus of birds as they flew about in the trees. As they approached the house, Charlotte could see the colours of flowers decorating stone planters near the front door and along the driveway. They were similar to the ones that they once had at her home in California. Charlotte's mother loved the flowers.

With that thought in mind, Charlotte quickly looked down at her hands.

The car pulled up alongside the house and came to a stop. Madelyn turned in the drivers seat and put her hand on Charlotte's knee, gaining the young girls attention.

"You'll have a good time," the woman assured her just as her door was opened.

Charlotte looked up and saw a man standing outside the door, a kind smile on his face as he greeted Madelyn.

"Good to see you again, Madelyn," Alfred said, leaning forward to take her hand, helping her out of the car.

"Likewise, Alfred," Madelyn told him, leaning forward to gently kiss the man on the cheek in greeting. "I appreciate you and Bruce making the time to visit with us."

"It's our pleasure, I assure you," Alfred told her with a smile.

The sound of the door opening on the other side of the car caught his attention and Alfred could see the top of an auburn haired head and a light blue headband appear over the roof of the car. Madelyn heard it as well and turned, smiling at her granddaughter.

Charlotte walked around the car towards Madelyn, and looked up at the large house that seemed to stare back down at her.

"Miss Charlotte," Alfred said, smiling as he held out his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. Your grandmother has told me all about you."

Charlotte politely shook his hand before Alfred looked over his shoulder at the boy standing behind him.

"Master Bruce, this is Charlotte Porter," Alfred said, stepping aside allowing the boy to step forward to greet their guests. Bruce smiled at Charlotte and said hello. "And you already know Mrs. Porter."

"It's nice to see you again, Bruce," Madelyn said, smiling. She shook her head. "You must have grown again since I saw you last."

A smile appeared on Bruce's face. "Alfred says the same thing."

Alfred let out a sigh and chuckled. "Master Bruce, why don't you show Charlotte around the yard. It's a beautiful day and Mrs. Porter and I will have a cup of tea out on the veranda."

Bruce nodded and with a tilt of his head, he gestured to Charlotte to come along with him. Charlotte glanced up at Madelyn before following Bruce, quickly walking beside him as they made their way from the driveway and onto the grass.

* * *

"I really appreciate this, Alfred," Madelyn said, sitting down in the wicker love seat on the veranda. Although the sun had disappeared from that part of the house for the day, a warm breeze blew by them every so often. "Charlotte is needing a friend right now."

Alfred nodded.

"How is she doing?"

Madelyn sighed as Alfred sat down in the seat across from her.

"Better than last week," she said. "She's speaking more. I have yet to hear her laugh again." Again, she sighed. "How did you do it? Bruce was younger than Charlotte when Thomas and Martha passed away."

A small smile graced the man's features. "A lot of patience." He reached forward and began to fill the teacups with tea. "And how are you doing?"

Madelyn chuckled. She reached forward and took the cup. "Better. It took a while to deal with Robert and Nicole's estate but I'm glad that it's over with. Now I just have to relearn how to raise children once again. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I would one day be juggling stock holders meetings with taking care of Charlotte. Yet I couldn't imagine my life without her right now. It's a miracle that she's alive to begin with."

Alfred agreed. He had seen the news of the tragic car accident that took the lives of the Madelyn's son Robert and her daughter in law Nicole, yet spared the life of Charlotte. The media had turned to the young girl as being the newest heiress to the Porter fortune. What they didn't know were the many nights where Charlotte would wake up screaming and crying, before being comforted by Madelyn as the girl played out her parents final moments over and over.

Alfred smiled weakly, knowing full well the nightmares that Bruce had woken up to in the past two years. Although they were becoming more few and far between, he knew that Bruce was still waking up in the night.

"If anyone can relate to what Charlotte has endured, it would be Master Bruce."

Madelyn sighed and looked out to where she could barely see the two children moving around the treeline. "I couldn't imagine loosing both a mother and father at their age. It hardly seems fair."

Alfred reached forward and put his hand on Madelyn's.

"At least she has you."

* * *

The silence was killing him. It was true that Bruce wasn't an overly talkative boy but he enjoyed conversation, especially when it was in the company of a new friend his age. He had found out early on that having friends his age were few and far between. Rachel was an exception. Her mother worked the grounds and Rachel would only stop by on the weekends for a few hours at a time. To have a guest in the middle of the week was almost unheard of.

Charlotte looked up at the tall oak tree and put her hand to her forehead to shield the sun from her eyes. The treehouse seemed to be higher than it looked. She watched as Bruce skillfully climbed the tree, gracefully putting his feet on the securely nailed pieces of 2x4. He paused and looked back down at her.

"Are you coming up?" he asked.

Charlotte's heart was beating in her chest. As eager as she was to make a friend, she wished it didn't include the need to climb a tree. She had climbed the old willow trees in her grandmother's yard, but none of them were this high.

Bruce noticed her hesitation and watched as she slowly reached out, putting her hands on the piece of wood. When he saw her take two steps up, he smirked and continued up into the treehouse.

He quickly pushed the pieces of opened chip bags and action figures to the side in preparation for his guest. Rachel had come up the treehouse countless times, but he realized that as she had gotten older, the treehouse had lost its appeal to her. Although Rachel hadn't been up in the treehouse since the fall, Bruce still visited it when he was needing a place to hide or get quiet.

He stood up and looked out the window, seeing his home through the branches and leaves of the tree.

"Bruce?"

He didn't recognize the voice but knowing that it was coming from the base of the tree, he looked down at Charlotte.

"Could we do something else?"

He paused and nodded before climbing over the edge of the treehouse and back down to the ground.

"Are you afraid?" he asked her plainly, a smirk on his face. He already knew the answer.

"No," Charlotte lied adamantly. She glanced up at the treehouse.

Bruce shrugged.

"I don't like bats," Bruce admitted, catching her eyes as she looked back down at him.

A small smile pulled at her lips. "My Dad always said that most animals are probably more afraid of you than you are of them."

He nodded. "My Dad told me that too." Bruce paused for a moment. "Alfred told me that your parents died not too long ago."

Again, Charlotte looked up at the treehouse, not willing to acknowledge the statement although Bruce already knew the details. Alfred had explained it to him before their arrival. Knowing this, Bruce quickly changed the subject when it was clear she wasn't wanting to talk about it. His 11 year old mind could clearly understand why.

"Come over here," he said, running into the bush. "There's a creek back this way."

Relieved with the change of subject, Charlotte ran after Bruce through the bush. He slowed down as they approached the creek. It wasn't wide but there was visible signs that it had been quite high after the winter's thaw. Charlotte watched as Bruce grabbed ahold of a heavy duty rope attached to the top of a tree branch stretched over the creek.

"Watch this," he told her as he took a few steps back with the rope in his hands. Bruce took a run forward and jumped, swinging himself over the water and then back to the edge of the creek. He hollered as he swung, his voice echoing within the bush.

"Do you want a turn?"

Charlotte thought carefully before finally nodding. Bruce handed her the rope, instructing her on the best technique to swing out. Following those instructions, Charlotte ran out with the rope in her hands. Bruce aided in her swing by pushing her back and watched as she swung over the creek. Charlotte's momentum swung her out far over the water and quickly brought her back to the water's edge. Seeing how fast she was moving, Bruce reached out and grabbed ahold of the rope with one hand when it came by him in an attempt to slow it down. He attempted to grab onto Charlotte's arm but he grabbed her sweater and together they swung backward over the creek. Charlotte let out a scream of surprise as Bruce suddenly let go of the rope, and pulled her down with him into the creek.

The water was cold and it was quickly seeping through their clothes. It wasn't very deep. Bruce stood up and the water level was at his waist. He turned to Charlotte beside him seeing that she was trying to stand up in the murky water while pulling out the leaves from her hair. Bruce made his way out of the creek, stumbling slightly on the uneven and muddy bottom.

The sound of laughter caught his attention and he turned to Charlotte as she tried to walk through the water, slipping after every step.

"That, was awesome!" she stated.

A smile appeared on Bruce's face as he too, began to laugh at their situation. Charlotte surprised him. As afraid as she was of climbing up into the treehouse, she certainly had no trouble when it came to having a good time. She was a lot like Rachel.

"If it was warmer, I'd consider doing it again," Bruce said, holding out his hand towards her.

Charlotte grabbed his hand and he pulled her up the bank of the creek. She looked down at her shoes, now completely covered in mud. Her jeans stuck to her legs and her cardigan was so heavy from soaking up water. Bruce didn't look any better. Mud caked the side of his neck and his hair. He ran his hands through it, feeling the clumps of mud come out with his fingers.

"My grandmother isn't going to like this," Charlotte stated soberly, squeezing the water from her cardigan onto her shoes.

The older woman was notorious for keeping a clean house and Charlotte had come to learn that it was important to Madelyn that she always looks her best. Now, that also included Charlotte.

Bruce looked over at the house, thinking.

"There's a hose on the side of the house. We can at least wash up a bit and then try to dry off in the sun."

Charlotte rolled her eyes at him as Bruce scoffed.

"If you have a better idea..."

Charlotte didn't and she figured that if she could at least rid herself of the mud on her feet and legs, before drying off while running around she may get away with it.

As they broke through the tree line, nearest to the house, they ran towards the patio where Bruce knew there was a hose waiting. It wasn't until he heard Alfred's voice that he stopped abruptly, causing Charlotte to bump into him and gaining both Alfred's and Madelyn's attention.

"Master Bruce?"

Alfred caught a glimpse of Charlotte behind Bruce just as Madelyn saw her.

"Oh, my word," was all the woman could say as she stood up from the wicker chair across from Alfred. "Is that mud?"

Charlotte bit her lip as she came to stand beside Bruce, feeling as though she was standing before a firing squad. Suddenly, she saw Alfred's features lighten until he was smiling. She could even see a hint of amusement in her grandmother's eye.

Alfred walked down the 3 steps from the patio and onto the grass until he was standing in front of the pair. He glanced at Charlotte before turning to Bruce.

"It appears that you two have had some adventures," he said, to which Bruce looked down at his feet.

Alfred sighed awkwardly, attempting to hide the laughter that was bubbling near the surface.

"Come along with me you two," he said, turning to walk back up the steps. He smiled candidly to Madelyn. "I'll get you washed up. Miss Dawes should be arriving shortly."

Alfred paused by Madelyn. "I'll look after her."

Madelyn smiled briefly to Alfred before turning to Charlotte following behind him.

"You and I will have a good talk when we get home later."

Charlotte simply nodded solemnly before following Bruce and Alfred into the house.

Madelyn sat back down on the wicker chair and reached for her tea cup to take a sip. She smirked, thinking back to seeing the pair covered in mud. As enraged as she should have been at seeing Charlotte getting into trouble with a friend she had just met, she was relieved that the girl was finally enjoying herself...even if that meant getting into a little trouble.

* * *

Charlotte stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel on the counter that Alfred had left for her. As cold as she had been in that creek, it had been a while since she had so much fun. For a while, she was beginning to think that living in Gotham with her grandmother would be boring. After all, she knew no one in the city. She was happy to have a friend, and one that knew a little of what she was feeling.

She reached for the clothes that Alfred put out for her. They were Bruce's. The light blue t-shirt with the old fighter planes on it was a little long, but it was better than her wet clothes. Charlotte pulled up the flannel pajama pants and was relieved to find that they did in fact fit her.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, she padded barefoot down the hallway the way that she had come when Alfred had originally brought them upstairs. Charlotte looked around the halls as she made her way towards the staircase. Wayne Manor certainly was larger than her grandmother's home; much too large for two people to live in alone. But she could imagine the games of hide and seek that could be played in a home that large.

The sound of voices at the bottom of the staircase caught her attention and she made her way towards them. She saw her grandmother off to the side, speaking on the phone and Alfred with Bruce, but now saw someone whom she didn't know. The girl looked towards Charlotte. Alfred turned and welcomed Charlotte into the conversation.

"Rachel, this is Charlotte Porter," Alfred said, smiling as Charlotte approached the group. Charlotte looked at Rachel, noting that she was taller than her and seemed to notice that Charlotte was dressed odd. "Charlotte is Mrs. Porters granddaughter and this is Rachel Dawes. Her mother works the grounds in the springtime."

"Hi," Charlotte said softly.

Rachel replied in greeting much the same. At that moment, Madelyn hung up the phone and walked towards them.

She sighed.

"Alfred, I'm sorry but we need to cut this visit short," she said. "I need to run into the city and get some documents signed before tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Alfred said, before a smile appeared on his face. "Perhaps we can arrange for another time."

"Of course," Madelyn said, gesturing to Charlotte to come with her. Alfred followed them to the door. He bent over and picked up a plastic bag filled with wet clothes and shoes. Madelyn chuckled when she remembered the scene of Bruce and Charlotte appearing in mud and water. "Thank you, Alfred. Oh, and we will return Bruce's clothes."

"That's not a problem," Alfred stated, turning to Charlotte.

"It was delightful to meet you, Miss Porter."

Charlotte smiled timidly.

"We look forward to seeing you again.

* * *

_Current day_

The school was sweltering in the heat. It had been years since the air conditioner had worked and funds within the school board were low. It just hadn't become a priority. After sitting in a classroom with 28 kids for 6 hours a day, Charlotte was beginning to think she should start investing in getting some more fans for her own classroom.

Spring had been short and quickly gave way to an early summer heat, even with a month an a half of the school year left to go.

Charlotte reached up and wrote on the blackboard with a piece of chalk. In the other hand, she held a paper and fanned herself with it, desperate to cool down.

"Here is your assignment for the weekend," she said, as she wrote. "I want all the work to be shown and in your best handwriting."

The grade 3 students behind her groaned as they realized how much work their teacher had just given them. It was nothing new. Charlotte grilled her students and demanded perfection. She was notorious for being tough on them. She had to be. The kids in that school came from low and sometimes impoverished families in Gotham. Charlotte was well aware that they were going to have a rough road ahead of them if they ever wanted to someday get scholarships for college. She loved her students.

Charlotte smiled hearing them.

"It's not that bad," she told them, turning around. "It's all review, so there shouldn't be anything new."

When the bell suddenly rang, Charlotte had to look up at the clock. The day had flown by and she couldn't believe it was already 3pm. The students quickly stood up and gathered their things.

"Have a good weekend, and stay out of trouble!" Charlotte called out over the noise of chairs being moved around. "I expect to see all of you on Monday with a journal entry for the weekend."

She opened the door and the students flowed out of the room and into the hallway. Some smiled at her as they passed, while others were just determined to get out of that stuffy room and school.

Charlotte walked back into her empty classroom and turned the fans so they faced her at her desk before she sat down. She turned when she heard a knock on her door. Charlotte smiled when she saw Amanda, the kindergarten teacher at the door.

"I'm ready for you to teach me more of your ways tomorrow night," the young woman said, bowing slightly in a teasing manner.

Charlotte chuckled. "My ways?"

Amanda walked towards her. She had been in Gotham since the term began in January and after having her apartment robbed within the first two weeks, she quickly realized how important it was to protect yourself in that city. When she had learned that Charlotte also taught a women's cardio kickboxing class at an inner city rec centre, she quickly joined.

"And then I'm going to have a nice glass of wine," Amanda added. "Because after what we have endured this week at this school, we deserve it."

Charlotte smirked as she agreed.

With the heat, came aggression within the kids and there were more than a few fights that had broken out within the halls. Charlotte's shoulder was still sore from stepping between the pair of grade 8 boys.

An elegantly embossed piece of paper stuck out on Charlotte's desk like a sore thumb and curiously, Amanda tilted her head to look at it. Her eyes widened as she read it.

"You've been cordially invited to a benefit in honour of the Wayne Foundation," Amanda read, looking to Charlotte. "This is tonight."

She simply nodded.

"Actually, it's my grandmother who is invited," Charlotte corrected her. "She's dragging me along as her guest."

Amanda let out a puff of air, before using the invitation to fan herself in the humid room.

"Sounds like you're going to have a rough evening hanging out with Gotham's elite," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She read the invitation further. "And at Wayne Manor, no less."

Charlotte reached out and pulled the invitation from Amanda's hands.

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't be going," she said, tucking the invitation into her purse before going back to collecting the papers from her desk. "Grandma is insisting I join her using her 'failing health' as a reason." Charlotte scoffed. "The woman is healthy as a horse."

Amanda smiled. "She has ulterior motives."

"Of course she does! She wants me to take over the business sooner than later and I think this is her way of folding me into society."

"But at least there will be some nice looking men there," Amanda suggested, her eyes grinning, while Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"All of which are so full of themselves," Charlotte argued. "That is the very reason why I've avoided going to these things with her for so long. She's going to try to set me up with one of them and I'm going to be bored to hell."

"Then why are you even going?"

Charlotte paused. "I don't know."

The last time she had been in that house was when she was 17, and she had promised herself that she would never go back. In actuality, she was keeping that promise. Charlotte knew that it had burned down a few years back and had since been rebuilt less than 6 months earlier. She hadn't seen Bruce since that day 15 years ago. Perhaps, deep down, she was just wanting to see him for herself, simply to confirm that she made the right decision that she had made back then.

But people can change, right?

Charlotte looked up at the clock, watching that the time had gone by that she had wanted to leave.

"Damn it! I need to go," she said, quickly grabbing her purse. "I've got a hair appointment that I need to be at in twenty minutes."

"You're cutting it close," Amanda commented, making her way to the door as Charlotte ran to the back of the room to the closet and grabbed her dress on a hanger that was covered in plastic. She threw it over her shoulder.

"Yeah, it was the only time that I could get," Charlotte stated, running back towards the door and by Amanda.

"Have a good time!" Amanda called out, watching Charlotte run down the hallway. "I'm going to want details!"

Charlotte looked over her shoulder and simply waved before pushing the door open into the parking lot.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! For the reviews, alerts and favourites. You guys certainly have put the pressure on me! I'm glad you enjoy the concept so far. There is a mystery going on at the same time with these disappearances as you'll come to find, so it's more than just a Bruce/Charlotte story._

_To answer a few questions: _

_This does take place after the events of TDK...so, Joker has been caught, Rachel is dead, and the police are searching for Batman. So, ignore the events of TDKR like it hasn't happened at all...or yet. Bruce Wayne is not a recluse and he hasn't given up his Batman ways. He's just more careful and avoids speaking directly with Gordon..but that doesn't mean that the Commissioner hasn't stopped contacting him. Bruce still blames himself for Rachel's death._

_I hope this cleared up a bit of the current Gotham situation. :)_

* * *

Charlotte would have taken teaching a group of rude and rowdy 8 and 9 year olds any day over standing amongst a crowd of strangers. At least in her classroom, she was in control.

She stood off to the side, a glass of wine in her hand as she looked around the ballroom. The live 5 piece orchestra played softly across the room as dozens of waiters sifted throughout the room carrying platters of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of wine. The liquor was certainly flowing that night.

She had to admit that she enjoyed getting ready for the party. It wasn't very often that she would attend one of these events. It was her grandmother who would always be invited, considering her name was listed as CEO of Porter Investment Group.

Charlotte found it entertaining to watch how the guests interacted. A few men caught her eye. She would watch and noticed how some smiles they gave other guests were genuine while others were forced. Either than a few smiles and the odd 'hello', no one paid her any attention. They had no clue who she was unless Madelyn introduced her as her granddaughter

Charlotte looked at Madelyn as she spoke confidently within a small group of well-dressed men and women. She looked at ease within that environment. The very thought of having to run a company and wine and dine potential associates struck fear into Charlotte's very core. She prayed that her grandmother would live to be as old as Methuselah.

Charlotte took a deep breath and turned away from Madelyn as the crowd seemed to draw their attention to the side door. She could barely see him, but caught a glimpse of his face as he went by.

Bruce Wayne.

A woman on either side of him and a glass of wine in his hand. A few meters behind him, Alfred followed faithfully before stepping to the side. The man certainly had aged since the last time she had seen him.

She watched as Bruce stopped to shake a few hands, and engage in brief conversation. His pompous smile never leaving his face as he chuckled at a comment.

Relax Char, she told herself. The man is so aloof that he wont even know that you're here. Besides, why would he care about someone from his childhood? The man clearly has other priorities. He wasn't even at Rachel's funeral for crying out loud.

Again, she sighed, looking down at her feet.

How could anyone relax, when they are wearing uncomfortable four-inch heels?

Bruce walked towards a microphone set up near the corner and clinked his wine glass a few times, gaining the attention of the entire room.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight," he said, a faint slur in his speech. "And to make everyone feel more comfortable, I have the fire department on standby."

That comment caused a light uproar of laughter in the ball room. Everyone got the joke.

"The Wayne Foundation is important to me," he began. "Not just because it was created in memory of my parents but because of what the foundation has done for this city over the years. We have assisted in the Dent Memorial Hospital fund, and created affordable housing for low-income families in Gotham among many other projects that benefit our city."

Charlotte didn't pay much more attention to the speech. The man stumbled on some of his words, most likely due to his increased level of intoxication. Charlotte rolled her eyes as the crowd began to applaud him when he ended his speech. Bruce stepped away from the microphone and the two women who accompanied him into the ballroom, once again glued themselves to his side. With a smile, he leaned in and whispered into one of the women's ears, causing her to giggle before Bruce kissed her cheek.

Charlotte sighed, having seen enough and was desperate for fresh air. She was about to mention that she was going to leave for a moment to her grandmother but suddenly found that the woman had disappeared into the crowd. Nevertheless, Charlotte made her way to a side door.

She pushed it open and looked down the hallway. Except for a few waiters walking to and from the kitchen, it was empty. Feigning the need for a bathroom, she slipped by them. The sound of music and conversation dimmed as she made her way further into the house. The place certainly hadn't changed. She still recognized the layout. Charlotte turned and headed straight for the back door that would lead her outside and onto the veranda.

Finally, she turned the knob on a door and pushed it open, feeling the cool, although slightly humid night air on her bare arms and legs. It was a welcome sensation over the multitudes of cologne and overused perfume that she had been enveloped in earlier.

Quickly she walked through it and closed the door behind her. It was nice to be alone with her thoughts. Charlotte walked further out over the patio and put her wine glass down on the high rock retaining wall before reaching to her feet to remove the abusing heels. She sighed, as her height instantly dropped. Charlotte placed her shoes on the wall and grabbed her wine glass, putting her head back to drink the whole thing in one gulp.

She put the glass down and took a deep breath of the fresh air.

"The party is inside," a voice suddenly said behind her.

Charlotte gasped and spun around, her hand knocking the glass from the wall and sending it to the ground, shattering it to pieces.

The glass was littered around her bare feet and there was a strange man on the patio outside in the dark with her. No one knew she was even there. Her defences instantly became on alert.

Suddenly, she looked around and the man who spoke was no where in sight. Instead, the light on the patio suddenly went on, blinding her for a brief moment before the man reappeared.

"Don't move," Bruce Wayne told her, looking from Charlotte to the glass on the ground. From what he could tell, the larger pieces had fallen away from her feet except he could see the shine of a few smaller shards in the light. He took a large, careful step over the pieces until he was right next to Charlotte. "Trust me."

As her mind registered who was standing next to her, she paused at his statement. That was easier said than done, but for the moment and situation, she nodded.

Bruce wrapped his arm around her waist and effortlessly lifted her up and stepped back away from the broken glass. He put her down before taking another step forward to get her heels. Bruce passed her shoes back to her before bending over to pick up the larger pieces of glass in his hand. As upset as she should be at seeing him, she couldn't help but feel awful for breaking one of his wine glasses.

"This is entirely my fault," Charlotte said, bending over to put on her shoes. "I shouldn't have brought a glass out here with me."

Although his back was towards her, Bruce shook his head. "No, I shouldn't have startled you like that. I wasn't expecting anyone to be out here."

"That makes two of us," Charlotte said, as she pulled on her other heel. "What are you doing out here anyways? Did you follow me?"

Her tone was accusatory. When she stood back up, she saw Bruce gently placing the larger pieces of glass onto the rock wall. He looked down at the smaller shards and stepped back over them towards Charlotte.

"This is my house," Bruce told her, slurring slightly as he smiled broadly. "I think I'm allowed to be out here."

"Had a few too many to drink tonight, huh, Mr. Wayne?"

A smile pulled at Bruce's lips as he leaned in towards her to whisper. "Maybe. But I'm not driving, so we're all good."

Charlotte smirked, hiding her disgust for the man in front of her. Having last seen him in his house 15 years ago, she had since mourned their friendship and wished that they had never flirted with that line between friends and something more. He wasn't worth it. Even when he ran into her in Paris, she should have known that he wouldn't have stuck around. She had seen images of him with women practically throwing themselves at him. And, he didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying himself. From what Charlotte had seen tonight, he hadn't changed at all.

She scoffed, and turned, walking back towards the doors that would lead her back into Wayne Manor. "At least you're keeping up with your reputation."

Bruce paused and scowled, feeling a haunting sensation race through him as his eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar tattoo on the back of her right shoulder. It was a small pair of butterflies above some Chinese calligraphy. Bruce read it: strong survive.

"Wait," he said, as the woman paused, her hand on the knob and the door slightly ajar.

Bruce took the opportunity to search the woman's eyes and for a moment, he allowed his facade to slip. He chastised himself for not remembering those piercing green eyes and the light freckles beneath them. Her auburn hair curled around her face and down onto her bare back. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable under his inquisitive stare, Charlotte glanced down at her mauve strapless dress.

"I should know you, shouldn't I," he stated softly, rather than asked.

Charlotte looked back at him, wishing that their past never happened. He had hurt her after everything she had promised him. At the moment, all she wanted to do was get out of there. Charlotte didn't want to remember the past.

She turned away from him and pulled the door further open when it suddenly stopped. Charlotte glanced up, seeing Bruce's hand firmly holding the door in place. How did he move so fast?

"I'm not letting you go until I know who you are," he stated, his expression determined.

"You always did like getting what you wanted," she told him cryptically, her voice laced with venom. To that statement and tone, he was visibly taken aback.

He scowled at her. "Who are you?"

Charlotte swallowed and was about to answer him when his expression changed.

"Charlotte?"

In that brief second after it hit him, Bruce loosened his grip on the door. Charlotte took that opportunity and slipped through the door, determined to get back to the crowd of people, desperately wanting to get away from him. What she wasn't expecting was to run into Alfred as he walked towards her.

A smile grew on his face as he recognized her coming.

"Miss Porter, it's so nice that you were able to join your grandmother this evening," Alfred said, looking at her but then glancing behind the way that she had just come. Bruce had just walked through the door and down the hallway away from them. Inwardly, Alfred sighed.

The man turned back to Charlotte. The expression of panic and anger on her face were suddenly covered up with a weak smile. Alfred caught it but made no mention of it.

"Would you happen to know where she is? I'm not feeling too well and I think I should head home," Charlotte said, putting her hand to her stomach.

Alfred's smile faded. "Of course. Meet me in the front entryway and I'll find her for you."

Alfred waited until Charlotte had turned towards the entrance before looking back where Bruce had disappeared.

"Bugger," he cursed.

Once again, he knew he'd have to make up an excuse for the missing bachelor. He doubted that anyone would be seeing him again that evening.

* * *

Alfred stepped off the lift and onto the hard floor of the cave. The waterfall echoed in the distance as he walked towards the desk with the computer and flat-screen monitor sitting on it. Bruce sat at the chair, his suit jacket draped on the seat back behind him. As quiet as Alfred walked, Bruce knew he was there. He turned to the older man as he approached.

"Another young girl, this time a 15 year old, has gone missing in the same area," Bruce told him with a sigh. "Gordon sent me a message. He is thinking that they may be connected to the other disappearances."

Alfred's heart sank, looking at the smiling face of the fifteen year old on the screen.

Although the GPD had put Batman on the most wanted list, Gordon still somehow managed to get messages to him every so often. Ever since that night a year ago when Batman came home, horribly bruised with a twisted ankle, it took Alfred some time to understand why he took the blame for everything that Dent had done. But it had made sense in the end. Now, with Batman being hunted by the police services, it simply meant that Bruce was ever more cautious. The streets were still full of crime, yet the police department were after the one man who was actually doing something about it.

"Perhaps it's all coincidental," Alfred suggested.

Bruce shook his head. "They're all from low-income families. One is from a single parent family. Gordon wrote that a few are known drug addicts and the other two, there is suspected abuse. The others are presumed to be run aways. These kids have been trying to clean themselves up and they all visited a rec centre downtown."

"I presume that you're heading out tonight, or rather, this morning," Alfred quipped with a smirk, an attempt to lighten the conversation.

"You presume right," Bruce said with a smile as he stood up and began to walk away from him to get changed.

Alfred paused, not entirely certain if he wanted to bring up the topic, but he knew that Bruce would never even mention it. He never has.

"I noticed tonight that you were with Miss Porter for a brief time," Alfred said, boldly.

There was silence for a few seconds and for those brief moments after, Alfred was beginning to wonder if Bruce would even acknowledge his statement. So, he continued.

"It was lovely to see her in the house again. It's been too long."

Again, nothing.

"I have to say that she looks so much like Nicole did at her age," Alfred said, softly reminiscing. "Except, she has Robert's eyes."

Alfred knew that Bruce's silence was never a good thing. The younger man indeed had a temper, which he only allowed to be expressed on the criminals of Gotham. But there were times where Alfred had seen hints of it and Bruce would search for silent solitude in order to calm down. Alfred knew that he needed to face this. It was one thing in his life that he had never allowed himself to move past. It was an unspoken understanding to never bring up Charlotte Porter. Except, Alfred had never known why. He decided to push a bit.

Alfred looked at Bruce as he emerged from the cave, nearly transformed into Batman except for the cowl. He paused for a moment and met Alfred's eyes.

"After the speech, you sent me out to the veranda for fresh air, knowing full well that she would be there," Bruce stated.

"Guilty as charged, sir," Alfred told him, prepared to stand his ground. "Madelyn and I have been trying to get the two of you to engage in conversation for years. Charlotte was at the penthouse during that fundraiser that turned awful when Joker arrived last year. She even spoke with Rachel for a few minutes before you arrived."

Alfred paused. He knew the subject of Rachel was always a touchy one. He continued.

"Tonight, Madelyn persuaded Charlotte to accompany her in hopes that you two would speak to each other and perhaps, somehow, come to a reconciliation of sorts."

Bruce shook his head, and even let out a laugh at the audacity as he made his over to the tumbler. Alfred followed.

"Alfred, if you two are playing match-maker, you're wasting your time," Bruce said. "That ship has sunk."

"Bruce, you and Charlotte were very close as children up until she left for Europe for college, you left to visit her once and then you never spoke of her again. Since Rachel's death, Charlotte is now your oldest friend and for you sir, those are rare. I wouldn't be so quick to throw that away."

Bruce pulled the cowl over his head.

"When are you going to start leaving the past in the past, Alfred?"

Batman didn't allow Alfred the chance to answer. He pressed the button on his suit that caused the Tumbler to roar to live. Without regards to Alfred, he climbed into the open rooftop and disappeared into it.

Alfred stepped back as the tumbler turned and sped out of the cave.

Batman looked down at the controls, the light illuminating the inside of the tumbler.

He clenched his jaw and gripped tightly onto the wheel.

It would be a long night.

* * *

_A/N - Next chapter, we go back 15 years to find out what exactly happened between Bruce and Charlotte...and then later to see them again in Paris._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - So I said that I wouldn't make long chapters...I lied. But frankly, this part couldn't be told with a break in between. I had to explain a bit of what happened in the past and this is what happened...close to 5000 words later... _

_Thank you for all the kind reviews, alerts and favourites. As I said, I have a good portion ahead already written that just needs some final revisions and editing to be done. I hope you are all enjoying reading it as much as I'm having fun bringing the story to life. I've written so far ahead in the story that I'm loving it more and more._

_Just a warning for this chapter, it's not M-rated...but it's a high T rating._

_Please review...:) You know you'd like to._

* * *

15 years earlier

A nearly 18 year old Charlotte raced from her car and up the front steps of Wayne Manor, desperate to evade the rain storm that was pelting down onto the ground. She held the plastic bag against her chest, keeping the contents safe from breaking against each other as she ran. She didn't even have to knock as the front door opened as she met up with it.

"Is Alfred back yet?" Charlotte asked, shoving the bag at Bruce.

He shook his head, reaching into the bag and pulled out the two bottles of beer that were shoved around the bag of chips.

"He'll be another hour or so. Hopefully the rain doesn't bring him home early," Bruce replied. He paused, looking at Charlotte. "You know, we don't have to do this if you don't have to."

Charlotte stopped. "Bruce, it's no big deal for me. You just strip down and do it. Besides, I can't let those Princeton buddies of yours win the dare. I'm not about to let you lose $500 for something trivial like this."

Bruce shrugged and smiled. "I'm fine with it. I just wanted to be sure that you were still up to it. I would have asked Rachel but she doesn't get back from vacation for another three days and even if I asked her, I doubt she'd do it."

If Bruce was anything, he was highly competitive and he knew that Charlotte was just as competitive as he was.

Charlotte began to quickly walk beside Bruce down the hallway.

"I still can't believe that you're going to be leaving for Europe tomorrow," he said, with a smile. "It's going to be strange to come home again from college and not see you around Gotham."

Bruce had finished his first year at Princeton and had been home for the summer. During the school year, he would be eager to come home on weekends to spend them at home with the people who knew him most. He had gone out with a few girls and flirted, but the conversations always seemed empty. The women seemed to want to impress him with any means possible.

Charlotte, on the other hand had very little time for socializing. She was glad that both Rachel and Bruce were busy at University so she'd have the opportunity to study for the high school finals, which she passed with honours. She had been determined to get accepted into a University in Paris. Charlotte's grandmother insisted on paying for her schooling as Madelyn had already paid for her private school tuition since Charlotte had moved to Gotham. Although she knew that she would miss home, Charlotte couldn't wait to get out of Gotham. It had been her dream to go to Europe.

"I'm nervous," she admitted. "I'm hoping that my French is good enough to get me by. But enough talk about college and leaving home, let's get this done before Alfred gets back."

They came to a stop as Bruce pulled open the heavy door to the indoor pool. The heavy humidity and smell of chlorine quickly hit them. The pair made their way around the pool towards the deep end. Bruce grabbed a pair of towels from a cabinet as he passed it.

"Did you bring the camera?" Charlotte asked, as Bruce pulled it from his pocket and dropped the towels to the ground before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

He nodded, placing the camera by the edge of the pool. "Of course. We need the proof, right?"

Charlotte put the bag of beer bottles and chips next to the camera before pulling the elastic out of her hair. Charlotte shook her auburn hair and quickly ran her fingers through it to pull out the knots before glancing back at Bruce.

As quickly as she looked, she turned back away, stifling a laugh. She had merely caught him as he was pulling down his pants.

"Hey!" he exclaimed with a chuckle. "We agreed that we wouldn't look at each other."

"Sorry," she said, genuinely. "Then you'd better look away too."

"I am!" he announced.

With a grin, Charlotte quickly pulled her shirt over her head before pulling off her pants and then bra and underwear. She dropped them into a pile. Before she would chicken out, she quickly dove into the water, catching Bruce by surprise. He laughed, hearing the splash and then her taking a breath as she broke the surface.

"My eyes are still closed," she reminded him, pinching her eyes shut as she tread water.

A second later, Bruce jumped in. Charlotte felt the water splash over her head and she turned to see Bruce's head appear above the water beside her.

"You ready to do this?" Charlotte asked, swimming towards where she had placed the bag by the camera.

Bruce glanced over at her, reminding himself to keep his eyes on her face. This was Charlotte after all.

He nodded.

"Of course."

Charlotte reached up and grabbed Bruce's camera, pulling off the lens cap. Bruce had to swallow hard, looking at her bare back as she set the timer for the camera. He could see her tattoo on the back of her right shoulder. He remembered when she told him that she had actually got it shortly after her 16th birthday. His eyes caught the small butterflies and the Chinese writing. When he'd first asked her what it said, she had told him that it was a secret.

'Damn', Bruce thought, prior to reminding himself that Charlotte was his friend, almost a sister and this was just skinny dipping, nothing more. Then again, who skinny dips with their sister?

He seemed to focus once again when he heard her curse. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"I can't get the timer to start on this thing," she stated.

"I can get it."

Bruce swam up beside her and took it from her hands, trying to get the function to set. Charlotte watched, but would find her eyes travel up his wet arms and to his chest. She knew as much as he did that the water left little to the imagination. For as much as she'd seen so far, her imagination was way over its head.

"Got it," Bruce told her, setting the camera on the pool deck. Charlotte grabbed the two beer bottles, and handed one to him. Meeting his smile at the audacity of what they were doing, they backed up in the water in front of the camera and shifted closer to each other, ensuring that they were both in the frame. Their skin brushed every so often as they kept the smile on their faces, waiting for the flash to light and the shutter to make a sound. They hoped that the one photo would work out to prove that they were skinny dipping in the pool.

The camera flashed and Bruce and Charlotte swam for the side of the pool to put the bottles back. Bruce looked at the chip bag, confused.

Charlotte seemed to notice his questioning gaze and she simply shrugged.

"I was hungry and needed something to hide the bottles," she told him, as she replaced the lens cap on the camera. "Grandma was less curious about what I was doing too."

Bruce looked at her, his smile fading as he swallowed hard.

"Thank you for doing this with me," he told her. "I'm going to miss some of our antics."

Charlotte placed the camera into its case and laughed.

"I doubt Alfred and Grandma will."

Charlotte turned in the pool and leaned up against the side, nudging his shoulder with her own. "I'm always here when you want to do something totally crazy."

Bruce smiled and watched as Charlotte lazily moved her hands through the water in front of her.

"So, do you want to get out?"

"Nah, it's nice and warm in here," she replied, sinking more in the pool, bringing the water level up to her chin. "I'm going to enjoy the water for a few more minutes. You can get out though."

Bruce nodded and turned in the pool. He was about to push up on the edge of the pool when he glanced over at her, noticing that her eyes were open and she was smiling at him.

"Close your eyes."

Charlotte laughed. "Bruce, there's nothing to hide that I haven't already seen. We're skinny dipping and it's day light."

Bruce turned back around, and slid down into the water again. He sighed. "I didn't want this to become awkward."

Charlotte shook her head. "It's not awkward. I trust you. We're not a complete strangers." She paused, glancing over at Bruce as his shoulder brushed hers once again. "I can think of other things that would much more awkward than this."

Charlotte heard him laugh beside her. "Name one! I think this pretty much tops the list."

Charlotte turned at the wall and glanced at him, a smile coming to her face. Bruce noticed her movement as she leaned closer.

"Here, this is more awkward," she told him before reaching for his neck, pulling herself towards him before connecting her lips to his.

Bruce was surprised to find Charlotte's hands on his neck and then to find her lips on his own. He almost didn't know how to react in that brief moment before she broke the kiss. There wasn't anything romantic to it. It was fast, sloppy and certainly awkward.

Pausing within an inch of each other, neither spoke for a few seconds. Charlotte licked her lips and she watched as Bruce's eyes darted between her eyes and mouth.

"See," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "That was awkward."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, softly.

Charlotte felt his nose nudge hers, questioning, pleading. An action so simple, yet so revealing. He was still, waiting for an answer. His breath was hot against her own. When she felt hands touch her bare back, her breath hitched with the sensation and she gently nudged his nose, a smirk on her face.

His lips moved softly against hers. This was nothing like the first kiss. It was slow and gentle, before she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. It surprised him. Bruce smiled into the kiss and ran his hands up Charlotte's back, pulling her closer to him, closing the space between them.

The feeling of skin contacting skin made Charlotte's heart race. Never once had she been in such an intimate embrace. Bruce felt it too as a deep moan erupted from the back of his throat before she felt him flick his tongue against her lips.

Just as the kiss began to deepen, Bruce's eyes suddenly opened.

"I heard something," he said, just as he broke the kiss.

Frozen in the water, Charlotte paused and listened. Her eyes widened when she knew that he was right.

"Alfred's back!" he exclaimed softly.

With no regard to the others nudity, the pair climbed out of the pool. Bruce grabbed the towels and quickly tossed one towards Charlotte, hitting her in the head. She glared at Bruce, before pulling the towel to her chest and quickly grabbing the clothing off the floor with her free hand. Bruce grabbed the bag of chips, camera, his clothes and bottles from the ground.

"This way," Bruce whispered urgently as he rushed towards the storage closet near the sauna. He held open the door and waited for Charlotte to get inside before he closed it behind them.

The small closet became instantly dark except for the small amount of light streaming in through the crack under the door. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the minimal light, but soon Charlotte could see Bruce. He was holding a towel around his waist and he leaned against the door, listening.

Alfred had opened the pool area door and was walking along the deck. They could hear his footsteps echoing in the room.

Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand, in a feeble attempt to calm her breathing.

After what seemed like forever, they heard the main door close with a loud thud.

"I think he's gone now," Bruce whispered softly.

Charlotte didn't say a word.

Instead, she blindly searched the pile of clothing and found her bra and underwear, quickly dried her cool skin and put them on.

"Charlotte?"

She paused.

"Hm?"

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

To someone who wouldn't know any better, they would assume that she was telling the truth. There was no voice inflection that would say otherwise.

Charlotte was glad that they were standing in the dark. She couldn't help but lick her lips. She could still feel Bruce's lips on her own. She was certain that it was a sensation she wouldn't soon forget.

In the darkness, Bruce reached out his hand and found her arm. His hand slid down from her elbow to her hand and he squeezed it.

"Something is bothering you," he said, having a suspicion of what it could be, considering he couldn't get his mind off of it either. He didn't bother to ask.

He heard her take a deep breath.

"I'm tired of pretending to be your friend," she told him boldly. Telling him in the comfort of the darkness made her feel more confident. She had no idea what his facial expression was and he had no clue that her face was bright red. "I'm tired of watching these college girls throw themselves at you and hear you talk about it. I love you too much to be just your good friend."

Charlotte let out a breath as she had blurted out all those words without taking much of a rest between them. She was afraid that if she didn't say it, she never would. She knew that she would be risking a friendship. Hell, she already saw him naked, kissed him in the pool...what other lines of friendship could there be left to throw out the window?

When he didn't speak, Charlotte sighed.

"Bruce, just forget about what I said," she told him, praying that he would as it seemed that he wasn't about to reciprocate the feelings she had. To Charlotte, apparently what happened in the pool wasn't as meaningful to Bruce. She was desperate to salvage any remains of their friendship.

"Please, say something," she begged.

Her heart sank when she felt his hand release her own.

She startled slightly when she felt that same hand reach out and blindly caressed her cheek. Charlotte had no clue that he had moved closer to her until she shuffled her feet slightly to find that his foot was right beside hers.

"Charlotte, I don't want to be your friend," he whispered, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it before. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his breath hit her face.

Before her mind had the chance to compute what he could possibly mean, the hand on her cheek moved to the back of her neck. In a brief moment later, she could feel his breath on her cheek just as he gently kissed it.

"I never did like acting," Bruce said into her ear before he kissed her cheek again, slowly making his way towards her lips.

Ever impatient, Charlotte turned her head and caught his lips with her own. Bruce chuckled before pulling Charlotte closer towards him, once again feeling her skin against his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as the kiss became more eager and hungry. Bruce pushed his tongue into her mouth, and began a battle for domination. He found that Charlotte was just as determined.

He ran his hands down her back, a little disheartened to find that she had put on her bra. Nevertheless, he teased, running his finger along the underside of the elastic against her skin. Finally, he moved his hands to work the clasp.

Bruce backed against the wall of the closet, bumping into a few hanging pool hoses and brought Charlotte with him.

Charlotte ran her hands down Bruce's own back and would pause at his lower back, feeling the thick terry cloth towel, resting low at his waist. It was almost too enticing to simply undo it.

Bruce shivered and chuckled, as she brought her hands up along his side and then across his belly button. That was obviously a sensitive area and she had found it. He felt her smile triumphantly into the kiss once she had discovered his apparent weakness.

Bruce suddenly broke the kiss, grabbing her hands with a chuckle.

"That tickles." He paused, calming his breathing.

"Sorry," Charlotte replied, her voice raspy.

Perhaps it was the sudden short exchange of words that seemed to cause Charlotte and Bruce to come to her senses. As much as she wanted to lean in for his welcoming lips once again, she couldn't. It seemed that Bruce was going through the same internal struggle.

"We can't do this," he finally said, letting out a frustrated sigh after he spoke.

"I know."

"I want to," Bruce added.

"Me too. Just not in a closet."

She heard Bruce chuckle. "Charlotte, you're so special to me. I love you. I'd hate to have memories of our first time together being those where we're hiding in a closet and we can't even see."

Charlotte sighed, knowing that he was right.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and I wont be back until Christmastime," she told him, her voice soft. Charlotte's biggest fear of this becoming just a one-time fling scared her.

"Char, it'll make it even more exciting to wait."

"You'll wait?"

"Of course!" Bruce exclaimed softly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting and hoping for this. I never knew that you thought of me as anything more than just your friend."

Charlotte shrugged. "I've always been good at hiding how I really feel."

"And here I thought I knew you well enough," Bruce said, with a smile.

She laughed. "See, that's what happens when you leave for University and see me only a few times a month. You lose that super-power."

"And what's going to happen when you leave for Europe for months on end? I'll barely recognize you," Bruce stated. "I'll have to learn how to read you again."

Charlotte smirked, leaning in to Bruce in the darkness. She felt his breath hitch when she touched his chest with her hands.

"I promise that I wont make it hard to remember," she whispered softly by his ear. He turned his head and she caught his lips once more before breaking the kiss. "I promise that I'll come back to you."

"Now, how am I going to get you out of here without Alfred seeing us soaking wet?" Bruce finally asked, as they both laughed at their situation.

"He must have seen the car out front so he knows that we're somewhere on the grounds. If he sees us, he'll know something is up. That man can see right through us."

Bruce had to agree. Alfred did have an uncanny ability to somehow know exactly what was going on within Wayne Manor. He quipped once that the house speaks to him while he sleeps.

"I'll figure something out."

Bruce and Charlotte searched blindly in the closet for their clothing and proceeded to get dressed as best as they could, occasionally bumping into each other in the cramped closet. A few murmured apologies back and forth were the only words exchanged for a while, until...

"Bruce, do you have my shirt?"

He felt around, finding only pool items and no articles of clothing on the ground or around him. "I don't think so. I'll open the door to give some light."

Bruce slowly pushed the door open, squinting slightly at the brightness. He turned back at the closet to only find a wet towel on the ground. Finally, he looked at Charlotte. She was only in her bra and jeans. Her hair was still damp and he noticed the fact that her lips seemed to be red. Bruce assumed the same went for him. He watched as her face paled.

"What if I left it on the pool deck before we hid? Alfred may have picked it up," she said, her voice bordering on panic.

"It's not a big deal," Bruce told her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "For all he knows, we went swimming earlier and you left it by the pool."

Charlotte nodded, taking deep breaths to reassure herself.

Bruce found it hard not to laugh at her worry. A thought came to mind and he quickly pulled off his own shirt, passing it to her.

"Here," he said. "I'd hate for you to drive home like that."

Charlotte laughed, taking the shirt from him.

How odd it was. They had gone from never seeing each other undressed, to being naked together, to making out in a closet where things could have easily gone further than they did and they went back to their usual bantering as nothing even happened. Except something had.

Bruce watched her as she pulled his t-shirt over her head, the hem falling lower on her body than it did on his own.

"Thank you," she told him.

Silence passed between them for a few moments. Charlotte couldn't help but look at him. She had admired his 19 year old physique in the past, but made certain that Bruce would never notice. This time he had and he smiled.

He watched as she picked up the bag of chips and the bottles before making their way to the door. Bruce grabbed his camera and held it in his hand as he pushed the pool door open and they slipped into the hallway.

Neither one said a word as they stealthily moved through Wayne Manor. They both felt a little more relaxed when they made it to the front door. Charlotte bent over to pull on her shoes and then stood up, and turned to Bruce, smiling. Her smile faded slightly as she saw a figure standing halfway up the steps behind them.

"Oh, there you are Master Bruce," Alfred said, making his way down the steps. Bruce turned around as Alfred looked at the young man, seeing as he was lacking a shirt. It was obvious that Charlotte was wearing his, but Alfred made no mention of it.

Charlotte gulped, feeling Alfred's gaze go from her and then back to Bruce.

"I was looking for you," he said, ignoring their appearance. He had to have been blind to not notice the fact that their heads were nearly dripping wet. Alfred looked to Charlotte. "And what a surprise to see you here today, Miss Porter. I assumed that you would be busy packing for Europe."

Charlotte smiled sheepishly and nodded. "I was and was just taking a break. I should go. I have more packing to get done in order to be ready tomorrow."

She quickly turned on her heel and went to open the door.

"Then perhaps you may want to include this in your suitcase," Alfred said, stepping forward with her shirt in his hand.

Trying not to look guilty, Charlotte softly thanked him.

"Have a good trip. Oh, and give my regards to your grandmother," Alfred added, as Charlotte quickly nodded and slipped through the door.

The moment the door closed, Alfred's smile faded as he approached Bruce.

"I don't suppose that I want to know how I came to find Charlotte's shirt by the pool?" Alfred asked.

"No. No, you don't." Bruce replied softly.

"That's what I thought," Alfred said, walking away.

"And I do hope that you know what you are doing," he added, pausing to look back at Bruce. "Miss Porter is a special young woman and is one of the few people in this world who can truly understand you. Be careful with your relationship."

Bruce looked down at his feet, wondering exactly how much Alfred knew what had happened. The old man had an uncanny ability to know what he was thinking and what he did just by looking at him. He let the last few words of his to sink in while he listened to Alfred's trailing footsteps.

* * *

The next few weeks seemed to drag for Bruce. He had seen Charlotte off to the airport and even then, she gave him a hug and nothing more. Bruce hadn't expected more. Any displays of affection in public were new to them. But she had whispered in his ear: I love you. A smile had appeared on his face as he turned, and whispered: I'll be waiting at Christmas for you.

Those moments played over in his head even as he attempted to study at Princeton. Women continued to flirt and ask him out. He would refuse and would occasionally flirt back, but that was all he'd do.

Charlotte would call every few days and they'd talk for an hour or two.

When Thanksgiving came around, Bruce made a quick decision to take the time away from school to surprise Charlotte in Paris. He had planned it all. He had even bought her a gift, intending to make it a pre-Christmas gift. What he hadn't expected was to find her, with someone else.

Bruce paused, watching her from afar. He was confused, hurt and shocked. He saw her smile and even laugh before wrapping her arms around the taller man's neck. Convincing himself that this man was just a friend was pointless when she even went as far as to kiss him. Finally, he saw Charlotte take the man by his hand and practically drag him into a French bistro. That was the last time he had seen her.

After that, he refused to take her calls. He'd watch the phone ring over and over. Finally, she wouldn't call any longer.

Charlotte was confused. It wasn't like Bruce to not answer his phone. She would then call Wayne Manor, thinking that perhaps he was there. Each time, Alfred would answer and apologize, saying that Bruce was away at Princeton.

It didn't make any sense to her. Although Paris was short on American news, there was a good deal of tabloids featuring the biggest music and movie stars. On her way to school one morning, she passed a display of magazines and was surprised to find Bruce's face on more than one of them. In one picture, he had a woman with his arm wrapped around her waist, smiling.

Gotham's playboy bachelor in love, was the title spread out on numerous gossip newspapers. Charlotte reminded herself that it was just that - gossip. It wasn't until the same woman appeared in more photo's with Bruce as the weeks went by.

With each picture, her heart felt like it was being ripped in two. What was going on?

But it was starting to make sense. He had obviously moved on. He didn't keep that promise to wait.

Charlotte decided then and there, that she wasn't coming home for Christmas that year. She never would return to Wayne Manor either. She had no idea that it would be years before she'd finally return to Gotham to find out that Bruce had been officially declared dead.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N - Thank you for all the alerts, favourites, kind reviews, suggestions and insight into your thoughts as you read this. It really helps me out!_

_ So I was going to move onto the next part, but I thought...hey, if Charlotte is at school in Paris around the same time as Bruce disappears, what would happen if they ran into each other? A little salt into a fresh wound...or reopening an old wound before drenching it in salt?_

_Also, I have no beta, but I combed through it as much as I could for mistakes..._

_Please review! :) _

* * *

Paris, France

4 months after Bruce disappears from Gotham

The nearby cathedral bells rang out in the darkness, echoing the time through the area of the city. Charlotte ran across the street, avoiding the traffic as thunder rumbled softly in the sky. In the distance, lightning flashed foreshadowing the impending storm. It had begun to rain over Paris a half hour prior, leaving puddles in the streets.

Charlotte held onto the umbrella, praying that the wind wouldn't pick up on her way home from school. The late night class was her last one of the week and of course it was the one day that it rained. She was so preoccupied with getting home before the storm arrived that she didn't realize that she was being followed. That same hooded figure had been following her since she got off the Metro two blocks back.

Her heart began to pump in her chest. She kept her stride before quickly turning into a small alley between two apartment buildings. Charlotte quickly folded up her umbrella and held it in one hand and her tote full of school books in the other. She ignored the cold rain hitting her on the head, quickly drenching her hair and coat.

She let out a breath, attempting to calm her frayed nerves as she heard those footsteps come closer before she nearly slowed to a stop.

Keeping still, she hid in the shadows with her back to the brick wall of the apartment building, waiting.

Finally, the footsteps continued and the hooded figure came around the corner where she had been hiding. Charlotte swung out her tote, hitting the man in the face before she brought her closed umbrella up over her shoulder preparing to hit him across the torso should he make another sudden move.

The blow to the head with her tote of books caused the man to cry out in surprise and pain. He staggered back, putting his hand to his forehead and moaned.

She was about to run, except the man blocked part of her exit from the alleyway and she wasn't about to take a chance to make it past him. She held up her umbrella, ready to strike him if he came too close.

"Qu-est ce que tu veux?!" Charlotte demanded in French. "Ne t'approche pas plus."

The man groaned, and put his hand to his head. She obviously caused more pain in the man than she first assumed. She smiled inwardly.

"Charlotte! Charlotte, it's me!"

That voice. It had haunted her nightmares and plagued her daydreams for years. Even after being told that he was most likely dead, she couldn't have believed it was him. It couldn't be.

Bruce leaned back against the brick wall and held up his hands in surrender, the bright light of the street light shining on his ashen face before he pulled back the hood from his face. Stubble had grown over his cheeks and around his mouth. It had been 4 years but she would recognize him anywhere.

He watched her expression turn from fear to simple disbelief. She still clutched the umbrella in her hands up over her shoulder.

"You're alive," she told him, her tone flat and void of emotion.

He nodded, still keeping his eye on the umbrella in her hands as she appeared to be ready to hit him at any moment. "Yeah, I'm trying to keep it that way at least for now. You hit me quite hard."

He watched as she eyed him curiously. He had on a tattered, old coat and his shoes were filthy. His face appeared to be dusty and she could clearly make out that his hands were stained with dirt. As much as she couldn't believe it, he was standing right in front of her.

Alive.

She didn't even realize that she was shaking. She clutched the umbrella tightly in her hands but then lowered it when she realized how he watched her apprehensively. Bruce visibly relaxed.

Charlotte backed up a few steps and put her hand to her wet forehead and closed her eyes, feeling the overwhelming feeling of adrenaline wash out of her. Bruce watched her take a few staggered breaths. When she opened her eyes, Charlotte glared at him.

"You son of a bitch. Are you insane?!" she finally exclaimed.

Bruce had anticipated the reaction, but not the hostility. He scoffed.

"For following you, apparently I am. You could have knocked me out with that bag of yours."

She ignored the comment.

"The world believes you're missing," Charlotte stated again. "Dammit Bruce! Alfred has been sick with worry over you. Rachel called me, crying on the phone telling me that you're probably dead and she's blaming herself!"

His face fell.

"You don't understand."

This time Charlotte scoffed. "Clearly I do not." She paused, once again looking at him and his dishevelled appearance. "Then again, I don't know you anymore."

She reopened her umbrella and sighed, looking at Bruce's wet face.

"What are you doing out here? And why were you following me in the first place?"

"I was hoping that I could stay the night," he replied, not bothering to even answer her first question. "Normally, I wouldn't have asked, but I'm a little desperate."

Charlotte paused as she seemed to be debating what to do. As much animosity as she held against him, she couldn't be so mean as to refuse him a warm, dry shelter for the night. Finally, she nodded.

Bruce followed her up another block to the front steps to her apartment building. Without saying a word, she unlocked the door. She pulled it open and held it towards Bruce, silently inviting him in.

Bruce followed behind her as they walked up the flights of stairs to the 3rd floor. His sopping wet shoes squished and squashed with every step. She stole a few quick glances back at him, noting how much his face appeared to be thinner now that they were in better lighting. It made her wonder what he had experienced in those missing 6 months and where he had been. Surely, he wasn't just wondering about the continents. As curious as she was, Charlotte didn't want to know.

Charlotte unlocked her apartment door and allowed Bruce to follow her in. He closed it behind him as she began to pull off her wet shoes and hung up her coat. Bruce followed suit and pulled off his soaked socks along with his shoes. She was gracious enough to allow him to stay and he wasn't about to track wet spots across her floors.

When he stood up straight, he found that she had disappeared somewhere in the apartment. The lights had been turned on and he took the opportunity to casually glance around.

Her space was decorated quite plainly; a stark contrast to her grandmother's estate where she had lived for years. But it was uniquely Charlotte. His eyes did catch the brown cashmere blanket draped over the edge of the beige teak sofa and he smiled to himself. Beside the sofa he noted the small photo's adorning a small table and mantle of the electric fireplace. One included a photo of Charlotte with Madelyn and another one he had seen before of Charlotte, no more than seven years old with her parents at the beach. There was another photo with someone he hadn't seen before. Bruce leaned in closer to see that Charlotte had her arms wrapped around the waist of a sun-bleached blond man and they were both smiling.

"That's Matthew," she said, catching him by surprise as she had once again appeared in the living room, her arms full of blankets and a pillow.

"Your boyfriend?"

She nodded. It wasn't the same guy that he had seen when he had first come to France all those years ago. He presumed that she had moved on from that man. He wondered if he should somehow warn this Matthew of who had come before him.

Charlotte placed the blankets and pillow onto the couch before putting her hands on her hips. A distant rumble of thunder caught her attention and she turned to the window, almost seeming to remember that she was still cold from standing in the rain.

"I'm going to put on some tea," she told him, making her way into the kitchen. "Would you like some?"

"Uh, yeah," Bruce said, turning to watch her. "That would be great. Thank you."

Charlotte had no idea why she was being to kind to him. After everything that he had done to her, the way he had thrown away their friendship so quickly and broke her trust, she knew she shouldn't have been as courteous to him. Perhaps it was because of what she knew he had experienced within the past 4 months prior to his disappearance.

She reached up into the cupboard and pulled out her stash of teabags, wondering if and even how she would approach a subject that she knew was extremely sensitive to him. In all her years that she had known Bruce, he had never voluntarily spoken about the night his parents died and would strategically change the topic if it was brought up. But she had a suspicion that his sudden disappearance had something to do with the hearing.

Finally, she cleared her throat as she turned on the burner allowing the water in the kettle to warm up.

"I heard about what happened to Joe Chill," she told him, her voice soft before she turned to look at him. As though on cue and knowing that he wasn't wanting to talk about it, he looked away and walked over to the windows to look out at the city lights in the distance.

"I'm sorry. I know that you wanted him to get what he deserved."

"He did," Bruce said solemnly and almost angrily. "I was able to watch that man die right in front of me. They did me a favour by killing him and I couldn't help but watch. I couldn't look away. That man took away my entire life."

Charlotte shook her head. "Then he got the cowards way out. Whoever killed him did _him_ a favour, not you. Chill simply was able to wipe away the years of prison he would have experienced."

"Charlotte, he was getting early parole because he was helping out the DA! Our justice system is messed up and that isn't fair!"

She paused and sighed. She agreed with him.

"No it's not."

A flash of light against the windows caught her attention followed by another rumbling of thunder. She wanted to ask the burning question.

"Did you leave because of what happened at the hearing?"

Bruce didn't reply, and instead looked away, hearing Rachel's words in his head echoing how his father would be ashamed of him for considering revenge.

When it was obvious he wasn't going to answer, Charlotte changed the subject.

"Alfred told me that he believed that you may be dead," she told him.

He looked at her, concern etched clearly on his face.

"You talked to Alfred?" She nodded.

"He called to tell me that you were missing. The poor man was probably desperate to find you if he called me. He wanted me to call him if I ever heard from you."

Bruce shook his head. "You can't tell him that you saw me. You can't tell anyone."

Charlotte was shocked. He was willing to let the man who raised him from a boy to believe that he was dead.

"Why are you being so selfish?!"

"Just...don't. It's easier this way." His tone was sharp, a tone she had never heard from him. He was...bitter? If anyone had a right to be angry, it was her. But she wasn't about to bring up that subject anytime soon.

Charlotte sighed. She put up her hands in mock defeat. "Fine. Let the world believe that you're dead. Of all the stupid things you've ever done, this takes the cake. Maybe we'll all be better off living in a world without Bruce Wayne!"

She knew that she was lying to herself when she said it, but she was so angry. Angry for everything he had done to her and what he was doing to Alfred.

Bruce was stunned that she had even said it. He had to admit that it hurt and angry when she said it. He watched her turn towards the kettle as it began to whistle. She switched off the burner before speaking again, her back kept towards him.

"There's uh, a shower in the bathroom across from the bedroom. Towels are under the sink."

Feeling angry and hurt at the words she had spoken, he turned as it seemed that he was being told to leave her alone. He wasn't about to say anything knowing that she had been kind enough to allow him to stay at her apartment when she could have easily thrown him out into the brewing storm.

Charlotte waited until she heard the click of the door closing before letting out the breath that she was holding. She brought her hand up to her nose, wiping it as she had fought the tears in her eyes. She had never been so angry in a long time.

Bruce looked at himself in the mirror as he rested his hands on the edges of the counter. He felt as though he had just another argument with Rachel, except this one was worse. He clenched his teeth, holding in the bitterness he was feeling towards Charlotte.

He pulled his shirt over his head, surprised to see such a colour contrast on his skin between his exposed face and his chest. He really was more filthy than he originally thought. He placed the wet clothes by the radiator, hoping that they would quickly dry.

Bruce pulled the bright yellow shower curtain back and turned on the water. Another minute more and the water was warm and he was standing beneath the spray. He closed his eyes allowing the water to pour over his head. He relished in the feeling of a clean shower. Bruce couldn't remember the last time he had a shower that included soap and towels.

The dirt and grime slid off his skin nearly changing his outward appearance back to the man that he once was months ago.

Out the small bathroom window, the lightning flashed as the rain intensified. For a moment, the rain hitting the window was louder than the sound of the shower.

In the kitchen, Charlotte reached into her cupboards and pulled out teacups as the sound of familiar knocking of the old pipes in the walls indicated that the water in the shower was on.

She glanced at the phone resting against the wall as though it was beckoning her to use it. Charlotte had told Alfred that she would call him if she heard from him. As much as Bruce told her not too, she knew it wasn't fair to the man to believe that Bruce was gone. She made her way over and picked up the receiver, and began to dial.

'You may be able to break your promise to me Bruce, but I wont do it to Alfred.'

The lightning shone into the apartment in a brilliant flash, nearly blinding Charlotte and the thunder cracked less than a second later, as the apartment plunged into darkness.

The thunder continued to rumble into the distance as Charlotte realized that not only was the hydro out, so was her phone connection.

"Damn it," she cursed softly, placing the phone back onto the charger.

She blindly searched through her kitchen drawer. The occasional flash of lightning shone against the walls through the windows. Finally, she pulled out the flashlight and turned it on, glad to find that she did in fact change the batteries not too long ago.

She could still hear the water in the shower and so she made her way to the bathroom door, knowing that Bruce was most likely in complete darkness.

Charlotte tapped on the door lightly before pushing it open a crack. The warm steam hit her as she stuck her head inside.

"Bruce?"

"I'm fine," he replied curtly, from inside the shower.

The reply was filled with hostility and it was justified after what she had said to him earlier. Then again, to her, he deserved it. Charlotte pushed the door open further and stepped in. If it had been anyone else, the intrusion would appear rude but this was her apartment, and to her, he wasn't considered a welcomed guest.

She turned on the flashlight and shone it towards the ceiling to give the room ample lighting.

"I'm leaving a flashlight on the counter," she told him before turning on her heel to make a hasty retreat from the bathroom. She was about to close the door when Bruce's voice echoed in the small room.

"Charlotte, I really appreciate you letting me stay the night," he said, this time his voice softer.

She paused and glanced back to see his stubbled face peering out through the curtain. He had no idea how old he looked. His longer hair was enough to hide his appearance. Feeling a little guilty over what she had said to him earlier, she made a decision.

"Hold on," she told him before she turned and bent over in front of the cupboard below the counter. He watched her and shook his head when he realized what she was intending to do.

"Charlotte, I don't need a shave. I'm fine like this."

She turned, holding a new shaver in her hands along with a can of pink shaving cream.

"Bruce, shut up," she told him curtly as she opened the can and squeezed a good amount of foam into her hands.

He watched her eyes carefully as her fingers touched his face, spreading the cool foam over his cheeks and down his neck. He had forgotten how green they were. It had been so long since he had seem them. When her eyes suddenly found his, he turned his gaze to her mouth.

They continued the dance until Charlotte had finished shaving his face. With a sigh, she stood back and turned to wash her hands in the sink. Bruce took the cue to turn into the spray of the shower and washed the remaining foam off his face. He ran his hand over his face, feeling the smooth skin that he hadn't felt in weeks.

He grimaced when he felt a rough spot at his chin.

As though she could hear his thoughts, Charlotte spoke. "Did I miss a spot?"

"Yeah, just a small one on my chin," he replied. "It's no big deal."

"Let me just check."

Sighing in resignation, he peered out through the curtain once again. With no hint of hostility, Charlotte placed her hands on his wet cheeks, checking for herself until she came to his chin. Her fingers lingered a little longer on his chin. She couldn't help but allow her eyes to travel to his lips. Her mind travelled back to that day when she took a leap of courage and kissed those lips. What a mistake that had been for her.

Bruce watched, feeling his heartbeat in his chest. He almost waited with baited breath for her fingers to brush his lips. It was all he could do from not reaching out and pulling her towards him. The memory of her flush to his skin was still so vivid.

"You're right," she finally said, her throat unusually dry in the humid room.

She turned to retrieve the shaver but found that her wrist was suddenly grabbed and she had been pulled in the opposite direction and through the shower curtain. Before she had a chance to realize what was happening, she felt the warm water hitting her on the back of the head. Her clothes were instantly wet, yet she didn't care.

Charlotte caught Bruce's gaze, the longing and desire building in his eyes.

Charlotte wasn't certain how long it took her, but before she knew it, her back was pressed firmly against the wall of the shower, with Bruce hungrily at her neck. She had no clue how her clothes ended up on the floor. Charlotte didn't even recall taking them off.

In all her times of making love with her ex-boyfriends, it had never felt like this. Why had it never felt like this? Bruce seemed to know exactly what she needed, when she needed it. She could almost read his mind and what he would need from her.

At one point, Bruce had no idea how they ended up in her bedroom. The storm raged on outside as they fought inside for domination. All the pent up rage, frustration and desires exploded in one big mass of tangled limbs, and ecstasy that ended with Charlotte repeating Bruce's name over and over, followed ironically about how much she hated him. He would shudder beneath her as her hands ran over his chest before she'd lay back down, both in the sheer pleasure of each other.

Charlotte laid down on the pillow and pulled the blanket up from beside her and over her body. Bruce reached over and pulled it further until it covered himself as well. Both laid there, their eyes closed as they waited for their hearts and breathing to steady back down.

Neither said a word. No one knew what to say. Bruce certainly hadn't planned on having sex, let along angry sex with Charlotte when he followed her earlier that night. It wasn't on his radar. He was simply desperate for a place to stay and knew that she was still in the city.

Bruce felt Charlotte shift in the bed before she rolled over and moved close to him. He moved his arm up, inviting her beside him. He felt her warm skin make contact with his own before her arm reached across his abdomen and rested her hand on his chest. Within seconds, it seemed that she had fallen asleep. Bruce looked out the window, the remains of the storm had already moved through the city, leaving the occasional rumble and flash of light in the distance.

He glanced down at Charlotte, her eyes closed and her breathing relaxed in sleep. This was comfortable. If he hadn't known better, he would have guessed that they had been lovers for years. But his emotional scars ran deep and he feared that being around Charlotte wouldn't be the best for healing.

He would never admit it to her, but he hadn't come to Paris for her. She was simply a stop and he knew he'd have to keep going if he was going to accomplish what he intended to. For a brief moment, he had to admit that he considered staying and furthermore, would have returned to Gotham. It was an inner battle that he fought all night until he fell asleep.

When Charlotte woke up the next morning, light streamed in through the window as it began to dry up the rain that had hit the glass. She was covered up under many layers of blankets and felt nice and warm. It was tempting to not want to get up. It was Saturday and she could sleep all day if she'd want to.

Her eyes opened and she turned to her right where she remembered she had seen Bruce last. The pillow was empty and that side of the bed had been made neatly. As she became more conscious, the sweet smell of tea filled her lungs and a smile came to her face.

Charlotte pushed the heavy blankets off of her and grimaced at the offending cold that hit her bare skin. She stood up and grabbed the top blanket. Charlotte wrapped it around herself before walking barefoot out of her bedroom and towards the kitchen. She thought that after that wild night of passion, perhaps they could make amends. A soft, content smile graced her features as she made her way through her apartment, but it fell when she realized that she was alone.

The tea had been made. She walked over to the kettle and felt the side, noticing that it was barely luke warm. It had been a while since it had been boiling.

His clothes were gone and there was no indication that he would be returning.

He had left her again.

What she also noticed was that her purse had been out on the counter. She made her way over to it and pulled it open, seeing her wallet sitting on top. She clenched her teeth when she realized that he had taken all of her money from her wallet.

Damn him.

She sighed, knowing that this time she probably would never see him again and for his well being, it would be for the best.

* * *

_A/N_

_"Qu-est ce que tu veux?!" - What do you want?_

_"Ne t'approche pas plus." - Don't come any closer._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N - Thank you for the reviews, alerts and favourites!_

* * *

Present day

Charlotte punched the bag harder than usual. She grunted with each hit. She put all of her frustrations and anger into each hit. Everything from her tough students at school, to her anger towards the people responsible for the disappearances of the teens who frequented the centre. It had become a location for those friends looking for answers, but she had nothing to tell them. Nothing at all. No one knew what was going on with the missing teens. It frustrated her to no end.

Her boss and director, Jeffrey McClelland didn't know what to tell her when Charlotte came asking for insight on what to tell the kids who were coming to her afraid and wanting answers. When she asked him about tightening security at the centre, he sighed.

"Because the disappearances are not taking place at the centre or on the property, the Gotham PD aren't planning on stationing an officer here at this time," he had told her, equally frustrated.

She had left the small office that also substituted for their lunch room more disheartened than when she walked in. Charlotte continued with the classes, albeit a little distracted.

Amanda seemed to have noticed and walked up to Charlotte as the class disbursed. Charlotte had been continuing to punch the bag.

"So, now that the class is done, are you going to tell me what happened at Wayne's party last night?"

Bruce Wayne.

With a smile, she imagined Bruce's face on the bag before she punched it again. She then paused, out of breath and laughed.

"Nothing happened. I went, I drank, I was bored out of my mind and then I came home."

Amanda furrowed her eyebrows at the woman in front of her. Charlotte had beads of sweat on her forehead and a light sheen on her arms. Amanda didn't believe Charlotte.

"So, nothing happened? Nothing at all?"

Charlotte turned to Amanda.

"Nothing happened," she confirmed.

Charlotte kicked the bag two more times before she stopped and glared at Amanda.

"What?!"

Amanda shrugged, seeming impervious to Charlotte's sharp tongue.

"It just seems that you're a little more...I don't know...on edge? Do you want to talk about it?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "No!"

Amanda scoffed. "Sure. I'm heading out. See you on Monday."

Charlotte stopped her assault on the punching bag and turned to Amanda's retreating back. She sighed.

"Wait, I'm sorry for snapping at you," Charlotte said, causing Amanda to stop and look back at her friend with a little bitterness. She began to unwrap her hands and shrugged. "It's been a long week."

Amanda smiled curtly. "I've noticed. But either way, I'm here if you ever want to talk."

Charlotte said nothing but nodded.

"I know what you need."

"What?"

"A good night out at a club downtown. I know just the place. We could get ourselves a couple of drinks, hopefully meet some guys..."

Charlotte smirked. "Sounds like a nice idea."

Amanda laughed. "When do you get off work?"

Charlotte looked over her shoulder at the clock and winced.

"Not for another 2 hours," she told her. "I'm helping Jeffrey close tonight."

"How about next weekend? You free?"

"Next weekend it is."

Perhaps a night out in Gotham would be just what she'd need to get this situation and Bruce Wayne out of her head.

"I'm heading out," Amanda told her, swinging her duffel bag over her shoulder. "I've got a date with a nice glass of wine and a warm tub. I'm sore in places that I can't even reach. I fear what I'll be feeling like tomorrow."

Charlotte laughed. The kickboxing lesson was strenuous that night. She waved to Amanda as the woman disappeared out through the front door.

* * *

Batman stood on the building across the road from the rec center, watching people come and go all evening. There was nothing concrete that would indicate that the center had anything to do with the disappearances of the teens, either than it being the one thing that connected them all.

He had lost track of how long he had been sitting there. It had been a while.

When he looked back up, he saw the inside light go off inside the building followed by a man and woman walking out the front door. He watched as the man turned, locking up the door and testing it prior to walking away from the building. The woman continued on but looked back when he heard the man call out to her and waved. The woman waved back and kept on walking towards a car a few dozen yards ahead.

Just as Charlotte was about to open her car door, the sound of a nearby struggle followed by a scream caught her attention. She quickly looked back to see that Jeffrey had already left, his car tail lights moving further away in the distance.

This is incredibly stupid, Charlotte chided herself as she pulled out her cell phone and headed in the direction of the struggle.

She paused at an alley, hearing someone cry out followed by a few colourful curses.

"I'm calling the police!" she called out, causing the four attackers to look towards her, startled, yet none of them moved with the threat. All of them had black ski masks over their heads.

Charlotte's heart thumped in her chest, as her brain told her how stupid she was. When her eyes fell on a young teenager, her heart sank. Mia, a young 17 year old that she knew from the center was being held against the brick wall, her lip bleeding.

"Let her go!" Charlotte yelled at them, her voice attempting to be strong as she watched Mia's frightened face.

One of the attackers sneered at her. "Or what? You'll yoga us to death?"

The men laughed, having noticed the black compression capri's and her sports hoodie and automatically assumed that she came from a gym.

"Do you want money? Let her go and I'll give you what I have," Charlotte said reaching into her purse and pulling out her wallet, holding it out towards the men.

The suggestion worked. The attackers moved away from Mia and stalked up towards Charlotte. Charlotte held her outstretched hand as steady as she could even though she knew that she was shaking. The men stared down at her, sizing her up. One of them snatched the wallet from her hand.

"I'd rather have something else right now," another man said, reaching out to quickly grab at Charlotte.

"Mia! Run!" Charlotte called out, but the young girl was frozen in fear.

Charlotte quickly stepped to the side and punched the large man in the face, causing him to back up in surprise as he held onto his nose. He looked down in horror at the blood in his hands when he realized that his nose was bleeding and soaking into his ski mask. The other men stared in shock, but it quickly disappeared when they realized that they would need to be rough with her.

"You bitch!" he growled. "You can take the punishment for what this little piece of shit owes us for her drugs!"

Charlotte gasped slightly at the sting that she felt in her hand after punching the man in the face. She soon realized that it didn't feel the same as when she wore gloves.

Charlotte quickly dropped her purse to the ground and waited as another man came at her. She held up her hands, guarding her face before kicking the man with as much force as she could in his stomach. The man groaned, backing up slightly from the impact. With each successful hit, she became more confident. Charlotte was standing her own for a while except there seemed to suddenly be more and more of the attackers or perhaps they just kept on coming at her. At one time, she thought that she had counted 6. When she felt someone grab ahold of her from behind, she reached for their face and pulled the mask off of the man before elbowing him in the stomach. Charlotte stumbled forward and quickly turned, seeing the man's face.

Black short hair with blond tips, grey eyes, scar on the chin. She remembered it all.

"Damn it!" he called out, quickly turning away from her to pick up his mask from the pavement. "Get her!"

Suddenly, a black cloud descended from above them. Batman seemed to have materialized in the middle of the alley. The distraction was enough that Charlotte was able to run forward and take Mia by the arm, practically dragging her from the scene.

"Mia, come on!" she urged, the girl starting to get the idea. "We need to get out of here."

Charlotte grabbed her purse from the ground and blindly fished her car keys from inside. She glanced back once to see two of the men begin to chase after them. Finally, Mia seemed to come out of her daze and was running right beside Charlotte. Charlotte pointed to the car alongside the curb.

"Get in!"

Charlotte pressed the door unlock button on her key fob, and the doors clicked just as they opened them. The moment they were inside and the doors closed, Charlotte locked them just as one of the men reached the car.

Mia screamed as a masked man began to punch at the window, yelling obscenities at them. Charlotte put the key in the ignition and barely put the car into gear when she sped away from the curb. She didn't even bother to look behind her and quickly took the first turn down a road away from the scene.

Neither one said a word for a while and used the silence to catch their breath. Charlotte had no idea how much she was shaking until she looked at her hands, as they firmly gripped the steering wheel. The pain in her right hand was slowly being felt as the adrenaline wore off.

Charlotte didn't know where she was going but she needed a place that she knew would be safe in order to finally relax. Her instinct would be to go home, but she didn't want her grandmother to see her in her current state and she knew Mia wouldn't be comfortable. Instead, she headed to the Porter Holdings building and pulled into the entrance to the parking garage. When it asked for ID to allow entry, Charlotte cursed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Mia asked, her voice small as she watched nervously. "Where are we?"

"This is my grandmother's company," she told her. "But my ID card to get in was in my wallet."

Charlotte put her head against the steering wheel, taking the time to pull herself together. She could easily call security to have them open the gate for her, but she didn't want to answer questions. She closed her eyes and in that moment, she could hear the sound of someone sniffing. Charlotte opened her eyes and looked at Mia beside her.

Charlotte's first instinct was that the girl was hurt. Although her lip was no longer bleeding, it looked sore.

"Are you all right?"

Mia shook her head, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry for what happened. I just can't believe what could have happened if...if..if you didn't show up when you did."

Charlotte smiled weakly, before the smile faded.

"What were they talking about? You owe them money for drugs? Mia, I thought you were done with that."

Charlotte was visibly disappointed in her and Mia felt bad as she began to cry harder.

"I know, I know," she said, nearly sobbing. "I thought I was too. But then I didn't know that I still owed them. They were trying to get me to repay in other ways."

"Other ways?"

Mia looked up at Charlotte. "They wanted me to work for them to pay off the debt."

"As a dealer?"

Mia shook her head and Charlotte could feel the pit in her stomach grow. She had suspected a human trafficking ring was going on around the rec centre with some of the girls and boys. With no substantial proof to the police, they wouldn't take her theory seriously, until more recently. As some began disappearing, she had begun to fear the worse. Charlotte had been in contact nearly every day with the police hoping that they were close to solving the case.

"I shouldn't be talking to you about this," Mia said. "You'll just call the cops and then I'll be in far worse trouble than the shit I'm in with those guys."

Charlotte reached forward and took the girl's hand. "You can trust me, Mia."

The girl didn't seem too certain and Charlotte knew it. She'd have to show her before Mia would ever open up to her.

"I know of a place not far from here where you can stay for the next few days until this blows over," she told her. "It's safe and you can get a decent meal there as well."

"This wont blow over," Mia told her. "They'll come looking for me. That's what happened with the others."

"Others?"

Mia looked down sheepishly.

"There have been others who owe these same guys? Are they the ones that disappeared from the center?"

Without saying a word, Mia nodded.

"I wont be able to hide. They are everywhere. Their organization spreads across the city, not just in the neighbourhood of the centre."

Charlotte leaned back in her seat. This was bigger than Gordon suspected.

* * *

"You're back early," Alfred said, surprised to see Bruce sitting at the computer desk within the cave. "I wasn't expecting you for another two or three hours."

When Bruce didn't reply, Alfred looked at the computer screen. A small smile came to his face when he saw the subject of Bruce's intense gaze.

"I didn't think that you were interested in Miss Porter."

Public photo's and a basic history of Charlotte's schooling covered the two monitors in front of him. After surprisingly running into her in the alleyway, Bruce had returned to the cave and begun doing research on this woman that he once knew. He came to quickly realize how much about her that he didn't know.

"I'm not," he replied, visibly irritated by the suggestion. "It just so happens that she's volunteering at a rec centre where some of the victims visited."

"Really? As far as I knew, Charlotte was a teacher at a school downtown. Madelyn never mentioned anything about Charlotte volunteering at a centre."

Bruce nodded, bringing up a website for the centre.

"Apparently, she does. It is geared to teens and young adults."

"And you believe this is the same place where those missing people have frequented?"

"Yeah," he replied soberly.

Alfred paused, equally concerned.

"You're not suspecting that Charlotte is somehow involved, are you?"

Bruce took a deep breath and let it out before answering. "I don't know what to believe when it comes to that woman. I certainly can't trust her that's for sure."

That woman.

Alfred could hear the venom in Bruce's voice as he spoke. He wasn't entirely certain of their history that would justify such an emotion in Bruce. He also wasn't about to bring up the subject, at least not yet.

Alfred cleared his throat, reading the website

"So, Charlotte teaches self-defence and cardio kick-boxing classes," Alfred stated as he read the information and gladly changing the topic. "I wonder why Madelyn never mentioned it to me before. A family secret, perhaps?"

Bruce smiled briefly for the first time since Alfred had arrived in the cave.

"By the way I saw Charlotte fighting off the gang tonight, I wouldn't be surprised."

Alfred's smile faded as his face blanched. "You're serious?"

Bruce nodded, his face frowning.

"Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Bruce replied. "I was watching the centre and heard some commotion. I intervened and caught Charlotte's face before she pulled another young girl from the alleyway. They drove off and the gang members ran when I intervened. I only stopped one of them."

"But at least Miss Porter is fine. That's the important thing."

For as much as he didn't like Charlotte, he had to agree. He would never wish her to get hurt or worse. Deep in his mind, she was still the little girl who fell into the creek with him; innocent.

"So, what are you planning on doing?"

"First, I'm going to look more into this center. It has to be funded in some way, a charity or something. If it is geared to low income women and young teens, they must have some sort of income to keep themselves running."

Bruce paused, looking up at the website.

"Gordon has an informant in that place right now, but Charlotte could be my key into it," he said. "If I could somehow get a bug on her..." Bruce looked up at Alfred as a thought came to mind.

"You still have those tea times with Mrs. Porter, don't you?"

Alfred nodded. "Yes sir."

A smile grew on Bruce's face as he stood up. He clapped the older man on the shoulder.

"First thing in the morning, you're going to call her up and arrange for a tea time. I''m sure that Mrs. Porter would be thrilled to have you join her.

Alfred suddenly shook his head, knowing exactly what he was implying.

"Sir, I am not going to be involved in your scheme to spy on Miss Porter."

"I'm not spying on her, Alfred," Bruce said, visibly offended. "I'm going to use her to get information that I could otherwise not get. I just need you to place a bug in her purse."

Again, Alfred shook his head. To him, there was no difference.

"No offence sir, but I'd prefer if you would do that yourself. If you wish, I can arrange to have you join us."

Bruce sighed. What other choice did he have.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N - I appreciate so much seeing the reviews, and the alerts pop up in my inbox. I love to hear what my readers think and know that they are enjoying this. _

* * *

Charlotte put the car into park and turned off the ignition, allowing the silence to flood the inside of the car. She had dropped off Mia at a shelter for young teens and made her way home. Charlotte climbed out of the car and headed to the door. She quickly unlocked it and turned off the alarm behind her before locking the door. She knew that her grandma wouldn't be waiting up for her. The older woman made it a point to be in bed by 9:30 every night. Then again, she was up at 6am each morning, so it was no wonder that she gave herself an early bedtime.

Charlotte was glad that she wouldn't have to explain why she was shaking as she pressed the keycode for the alarm system to reactivate. And here she had thought that the adrenaline had completely left her system. Her mind replayed the scenario of the alley, Mia crying, the men attacking her and the dark shadow appearing as if out of no where.

After all these years of living in Gotham, she had finally seen Batman. That was more of a blanket statement. She hadn't actually seen him, either than a form dressed completely in black that seemed to effortlessly bring the gang members to their knees. She had come back to Gotham a few years before Batman began appearing and according to the reports, he was helping the police. She couldn't help but suspect that he would turn on them. After all, a man who dresses up like a bat couldn't possibly be sane. It would only be a matter of time until he cracked. So, Charlotte wasn't surprised to hear that Batman had killed the new DA, Harvey Dent and countless other people a year ago. As surprised and shocked as she was to have seen him in that alley, she was grateful that he was there. But she also wasn't about to stick around to thank him. Her grandmother had warned her countless times that she'd have to be careful in that area of town. She thought she'd have to be aware of possible muggings, not encountering a murderer dressed as a bat.

She made her way through the house and softly walked up the staircase. Charlotte glanced at her grandmother's closed bedroom door before continuing onto her room further down the hall. The less the woman knew, the better. Charlotte knew how much her grandmother already worried about her with where she worked and spent her time. Madelyn didn't need to know what happened. Charlotte gently closed her bedroom door behind her and turned on the light. Dropping her purse on her bed, she sighed. Charlotte wasn't looking forward to the hassle of calling up the credit card companies to cancel her card and get a new driver's licence.

Why couldn't they have just taken the money and left?!

She unzipped her hoodie and pulled it off. She walked into her ensuite bathroom and flipped on the light before turning on the faucet. Charlotte put her hands under the water and saw that they were still shaking. She slowly balled her hands into fists, willing them and herself to relax.

Charlotte looked up at her reflection in the mirror and took a deep breath.

She'd be sleeping with the lamps on tonight.

* * *

Next Afternoon

Madelyn Porter was a unique woman in Gotham's society. Although Porter Investments would gross 6 figures annually, it would never reflect on her everyday life. The woman still hired cleaners to come by the estate every other day, but Madelyn preferred to do her own cooking and even some gardening that her ailing arthritis would allow her. Charlotte would pick up whatever she couldn't. It seemed even more important to keep life as normal as possible once Charlotte had come into her life. She was well aware that her grand-daughter had lived in a middle-class neighbourhood and was used to backyard barbeque's and pool parties, certainly not the lavish parties and charity dinners that Madelyn would be invited to.

"It is certainly strange how life changes us," Madelyn had once told Alfred on one of his visits.

Madelyn had become a widow when she was in her mid-fifties; much too young to be a widow. Up until the day that her husband, John passed away, the two were inseparable. Every major business decision was made together. She stood by his side until he passed away of cancer.

Thomas Wayne had been the one to break the news to them when John was first diagnosed. Being both their physician and friend, it was tough for Thomas and Martha to see the older couple go through it. But they supported them. Madelyn had been extremely appreciative for everything that the Wayne's had done for her during that tough time. They would invite Madelyn to their home and allow the woman to hold their infant son, Bruce as Madelyn hoped that one day, she would become a grandmother.

And now to see Bruce sitting in her kitchen, it was a welcome sight. For a moment, she was certain that she was looking into Thomas Wayne's face. It was uncanny how similar the two would look with certain expressions.

Madelyn smiled warmly as she placed a cup of tea in front of Bruce before pouring one for Alfred and finally for herself. She looked at Alfred as she sat down.

"I was surprised when you called this morning. It certainly has been a while since we've gotten together for tea," Madelyn said, before turning to Bruce. She watched as he took a sip before she spoke. "And it was quite a surprise to see you, Bruce."

He smiled back at the woman.

"Thank you Mrs. Porter for allowing me to tag along," he said, wrapping his fingers around the small china cup.

"You're welcome anytime."

It had been well over a decade since he had been inside that kitchen, yet it hadn't changed much. He had memories of Madelyn making homemade ice tea on hot summer days and would remember how he and Charlotte would sneak in as quietly as they could to grab her fresh oatmeal cookies when she wasn't looking. Madelyn knew exactly what would be happening. They couldn't keep that quiet when Charlotte would be giggling as they ran out of the kitchen.

Bruce smiled as he looked down at his tea, remembering his intention and purpose of tagging along with Alfred. It certainly wasn't to conjure up old memories.

"Is Charlotte home today?"

The inquiry about Charlotte didn't surprise Madelyn. She assumed that her grand-daughter was the reason why he tagged along with Alfred. As she was with his late parents, Madelyn was very fond of Bruce and had secretly hoped that a relationship between him and Charlotte would flourish. She had given up on that dream when Charlotte had told her that she wanted to go to school in Paris and Bruce had disappeared off the face of the earth. Even after Charlotte and then Bruce returned, she was aware that neither had a desire to even speak to the other for some reason beyond her. Alfred had told her how close Bruce and Rachel had become in Charlotte's absence and the sadness Bruce felt with Rachel's death. Alfred and Madelyn had hoped to get the old friends speaking to each other again, but after the unsuccessful attempt at Wayne Manor days prior, that hope was once again dashed.

"She is," Madelyn replied, a small smile appearing on her lips. That hope was starting to rekindle. "She's out in the garden finishing up some weeding that I was unable to do earlier. My hands are just not what they use to be."

Alfred chuckled. "I can certainly relate to that."

"I told her that we were going to be having company for tea and to come in so she should be here shortly."

Bruce nodded before he spoke.

"So, how is Porter Investment's doing this quarter?"

Madelyn laughed as she shook her head.

"I have one rule while you're in my house, Mr. Wayne," she said, smiling as she chided him. "There is to be no business talk. It's a rule that my husband instilled decades ago and I still enforce it. Business is for the workplace not for the home."

Bruce smiled, agreeing with the woman on her rule.

"I understand."

"But we can talk about the grand opening for the new state of the art aquarium," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Oh, I've heard about that place," Alfred chimed in. "It's supposed to be the largest one on the eastern seaboard."

Madelyn nodded, as she turned to Bruce. "I assume that you have been invited to the soiree to christen the new building."

"I am," Bruce told her, after taking a sip of his tea. "But I wont be attending. I'd much rather just walk through to see the exhibits than stand around for hours."

Madelyn laughed. "You and me both. Perhaps we can arrange something."

Her attention was quickly pulled away from her guests as a loud knocking sound outside of the french door from the back yard. Finally, it opened and they saw the back of Charlotte's pony-tailed head as she pulled off her muddy boots at the door and tossed them away from the entrance. From her ears, a pair of wires trailed down to her pocket. She promptly pulled them from her ears and carefully tugged on the wires to get the iPod out of her pocket without touching it with her dirty hands.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, with a smile. That smile faded the moment she realized that there was an extra guest at the table that she wasn't expecting.

Bruce Wayne. Her encounter with him on the darkened patio didn't allow her the chance to see him. She saw something different; something new in his eyes that she hadn't seen earlier. He was still good-looking, she quickly concluded. It certainly didn't change her perception of him.

Madelyn saw the expression on Charlotte's face fall. The older woman stood up to retrieve an extra teacup from the counter in anticipation of Charlotte joining them.

"You know what Grandma, I think I'll just finish up working outside right now rather than wait until later," Charlotte said, picking up the iPod with no regard to how dirty her hands were. As she turned to head back to the door, Madelyn stood up and followed Charlotte as the younger woman walked out the back door. She closed the door behind her.

"Charlotte Anne Porter," Madelyn stated, her voice stern and her face, visibly angry. It had been years since she had to use Charlotte's full name. "Stop acting like a child. They are our guests."

Charlotte stopped from where she stood pulling on her orange rubber boots. She sighed.

"What is he doing here?"

"Who? Bruce?"

"Yes, Bruce. Did you invite him?"

"No, he came on with Alfred."

Charlotte scoffed.

"I don't know what went on between the two of you," Madelyn said, glancing back at the door where Bruce and Alfred were waiting behind. "But will you please come inside and at least try to be civil?"

Charlotte sighed, looking past Madelyn at the door. Finally she sighed and nodded.

"Fine," she mumbled before following Madelyn back into the house.

"Alfred, Bruce," Madelyn began as she walked towards the table. "I apologize for that."

Madelyn looked back at Charlotte to see her walk up to the table beside her with a smile on her face that was obvious to Madelyn that it was forced. "Charlotte will be in fact, joining us."

Alfred smiled at Charlotte. "That's wonderful."

"Hi Alfred," she said to him, smiling. When she didn't acknowledge Bruce, Madelyn spoke.

"Charlotte, you know Bruce. I believe you ran into him the other night."

Bruce stood up, mentally recalling both the evening at his home on the patio and again the following night in the alley.

Charlotte's auburn hair was lighter than he remembered but it was still as unruly as he recalled. Wisps of hair framed her face and it was obvious that her exposure to the sun caused more freckles to appear on her cheeks than usual.

She nodded and held out her hand towards him. "How could I forget."

He glanced at Charlotte's hand, the mud from gardening having dried on it and realized that she was intending to shake hands with him knowing that her hands were filthy. Bruce smirked defiantly and surprised her, shaking her hand.

Alfred glanced between the two, seeing the hidden animosity behind their forced smiles as they held onto each other's hands, a layer of dirt between them.

Feeling the tension rise in the room as the silent exchange between the old friends became cold, Madelyn cleared her throat.

"Why don't we all sit and have some tea?" she gently suggested.

After another beat, Charlotte let go of Bruce's hand only to find that he held on for a second longer causing her to glare at him for a brief instance. Finally, Bruce sat down, dusting the dirt off his hand with a napkin. Charlotte turned and headed towards the sink, and washed her hands off. She could hear the conversation start back up behind her.

"Bruce, that was a lovely party that you held for the Wayne Foundation the other day," Madelyn said, turning the subject to something friendly. "I hope that it was successful."

Charlotte turned off the water and grabbed a towel to dry her hands as she turned around.

"It was," he told her, with a smile. "It's a shame that you had to leave early." He glanced up at Charlotte, catching her eye.

"Yes, Charlotte wasn't feeling well. Something she ate must have not sat well."

Bruce knew it was a lie. He smiled curtly.

"I suppose that tends to happen when someone drinks as much as she must have that night," Bruce stated with a wink, glancing up at Charlotte.

Alfred swallowed hard and looked down at his tea after he heard Bruce speak the words. Madelyn was equally surprised as she glanced over at Charlotte.

Charlotte scoffed and let out a chuckle.

"I guess I forgot to burn your house down in my drunken stupor. I'll remember that next time when you're feeding your guests crap with every word that you speak," Charlotte snapped back sarcastically, causing Madelyn to turn in her chair and glare at her grand-daughter.

Charlotte noticed the look that Madelyn gave her and paused, clearing her throat before she spoke softly. "And not surprisingly, I'm not feeling all too well right now either. Grandma, I'm going to go put away the hose and rake and call it a day outside."

Without giving a further regard to Madelyn, Alfred or Bruce, Charlotte headed back towards the french door and pulled it open, before quickly closing it behind her.

A silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Madelyn was stunned by Bruce's accusation and embarrassed to hear Charlotte's sharp rebuttal. She smiled weakly at Alfred and was about to turn to Bruce, when the man suddenly stood up.

"Excuse me one moment," he said softly before turning towards the french doors that Charlotte had just disappeared through.

Alfred's heart sank, noticing that familiar clenched jaw on Bruce's face and his quiet demeanor as he left the table; the man wasn't happy. When the door closed behind Bruce, Alfred let out a breath and looked to Madelyn. It was obvious that they both had the same thought - Let's hope that the neighbours have their windows closed.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N - Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, for the kind reviews, messages, follows, favourites and alerts. I'm really pleased at the reception that this is getting. This chapter is a little shorter than what I've done, but I was wanting to post this before the weekend was through. And like the good Canadian that I am, I must talk about the weather because it is BEAUTIFUL here! 12-15 degrees Celsius and our snow is 98% gone! If it was fall and 12 Celsius, I'd be freezing and cursing the wretched season...but 12 Celsius in the spring is flip-flop weather!_

_Bring it on!_

* * *

Madelyn winced when she heard Charlotte's voice from outside followed swiftly by Bruce's. Alfred reached over and gently placed his hand over Madelyn's. The older woman was visibly fretting over the obviously loud and confrontational conversation erupting in her back yard.

"This is a good thing," Alfred said to her, trying to convince himself at the same time. "They need to discuss this or this unwarranted hostility will just continue until they do."

Madelyn nodded, looking out the bay window into the back yard where Charlotte stood in front of Bruce, her stance obvious that she was angry and defending herself as much as Bruce was standing his ground. They couldn't hear the exact words that were being spoken, but it appeared that it wasn't quiet nor polite.

Alfred was beginning to wonder if getting Charlotte angry and getting into a verbal confrontation with her was part of Bruce's plan to plant the bug on her. Except as he watched the man he raised, it was becoming evident to him that Bruce wasn't pretending.

At one point, they saw Charlotte quickly take a step back from Bruce and turned on her heel, raising her hands up in rebuttal before opening the french door and rushing back inside. They didn't have to take a look at Charlotte's face to know that the woman was angry. A second later, Bruce walked into the house, trailing Charlotte as she made her way towards the hallway that would lead to the front entrance and staircase.

"Charlotte! I wasn't finished talking!" he called out, his voice echoing in the house

"I was!" she quickly shot back over her shoulder. "If I have to explain to you why I'm angry, then you obviously don't get it."

Bruce vocally sighed. "I can't read your mind! Will you please stop walking away from me?"

"And you always get what you want, don't you Bruce!"

Bruce scoffed, equally irritated with the woman. He had been used to hearing rude comments pointed in his direction and he would let them roll off his back with a pompous laugh. This time, this was different. He wasn't giving in.

"Speak for yourself," Bruce said, with a satisfied smirk on his face. "Or don't you remember the last time I saw you in Paris? You got exactly what you wanted."

He was actually going to bring it up. Charlotte turned in the middle of the hallway to see Bruce was following behind her. He stopped directly in front of her, her face red in anger.

"I can't believe that I was stupid enough to have sex with someone as egotistical and pompous as you! Get out of my house, now!" She pointed in the direction of the front door.

"Or what? You'll punch me?"

"I'm considering it, yes. Let me list the things that you have done that would certainly warrant an ass kicking from a girl!"

Bruce crossed his arms. The gloves were coming off.

"You seriously think that you have a more justified reason to be pissed off than I do?!"

Charlotte smirked defiantly and let out a mock laugh.

"Oh my God, you really are as arrogant as they say, aren't you," she stated, rather than questioned. "You stole $500 from me that I needed for rent! You're a god-damned cheater and a thief!"

Bruce shook his head. "You are so full of crap! It certainly didn't take you long to turn into one of those air-brained, stuck up women that seem to constantly throw themselves at me. Oh, and I never cheated!"

Charlotte let out a mock laugh. "Oh, that's priceless. The all-mighty prince of Gotham isn't a cheat! Just tell that to the air-brained, stuck up women who you date like a revolving door."

"Charlotte, I never cheated while you were away!" he argued bitterly, taking a step forward and narrowing the gap between them, as he nearly growled the words out between his teeth. "You couldn't wait a few months to come home before jumping in bed with the first guy you met in Europe!"

"That's not true!"

"Then tell me, who the hell did I see you kissing over that first Thanksgiving that you were away?!"

Charlotte paused in their verbal exchange, suddenly causing the house to become quiet.

"What are you talking about?"

"I went to Paris to surprise you," Bruce said, his tone somewhat softer. "I saw you with someone."

Charlotte shook her head.

"There never was anyone for months after I arrived in Europe," Charlotte told him. "It wasn't until I realized that you had moved on and had no interest in continuing a relationship of any kind with me that I began dating again."

"I can't believe you, when I saw you with my own eyes, Charlotte," Bruce said, sternly.

Charlotte shrugged sadly and turned, continuing her path through the house to the staircase. "Obviously, you need glasses because I don't know what to tell you then. You never returned my calls and you stopped calling me all together. Only when I saw the tabloids with you and Monica, I moved on."

Bruce followed after her and paused. "Monica?"

Charlotte scoffed, surprised that he had forgotten.

"Blond, skinny as a rail and a product of numerous plastic surgeries," Charlotte stated over her shoulder. She had the image of this model in her head for years, knowing that she was replaced in his life by her. She stopped once more when she reached the steps. "I'll never forget her. I guess it is a consolation to know that you obviously have."

In all honesty, Bruce had gone out with Monica a few times the month after he returned from Europe. He had been hurt and knew that he was using Monica to heal that wound. Even Rachel had told Bruce that she could tell that he was just wasting his time with her. He slowly came out of that behaviour and turned his affections to Rachel and their friendship grew.

"Yeah, but I never dated her until after I saw you in Paris," Bruce told her. "I was actually surprised to see you with the guy. I never took you for someone who would be into men with beards."

Bruce knew her well enough to know that she never was wasn't fond of guys with beards or moustaches. She had never dated anyone with facial hair but she did have friends who did. Then suddenly it hit her. That first Thanksgiving away from home.

"Andrew," she stated, shaking her head. "You're talking about Andrew."

Bruce shrugged, having no clue who this Andrew was. Charlotte was talking more to herself as she let out an incredulous laugh.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, through laughter. "You thought me and Andrew...?"

Bruce wasn't impressed with her finding the situation comical.

"Charlotte, this isn't funny."

"Oh yes it is." Suddenly, her laughter turned to anger. Bruce watched her face turn angry. "Because Andrew...is gay! I have gone through all of this crap because you thought I was dating someone who was gay!"

Bruce was speechless, as he tried to recall that day again. Charlotte continued, her emotions still raw.

"Andrew was the first American I met after I arrived and it was also his first Thanksgiving abroad so we spent it together!" She paused as she swallowed the lump in her throat that tried to bubble up.

"You never trusted me," she concluded soberly. "And I can't trust you."

Silence.

For the first time, neither one spoke. They simply stared at each other, almost seeing the wounds that they had caused to each other. Charlotte had nothing else to say and it was apparent to her that neither did Bruce. After a beat, she turned and headed up the staircase. As much as she wanted to burst into a fit of tears, she held it back as she had taught herself many years ago. Back then, Bruce had somehow been able to see the sadness in her eyes and now, she hoped that he had forgotten how to.

Bruce stood, watching her walk away from him. He was stunned. Everything that he had known or assumed was wrong. He didn't want to dwell on all the 'could-have's but it was impossible for his mind not to consider them.

The grandfather clock ticked loudly as seconds passed like minutes.

"Charlotte!" he finally called out, his own voice hitched in his throat. "I'm so sorry."

Bruce had hoped that his genuine apology would have caused her to stop or at least turn around. Instead, it did not. He watched her until she disappeared around the corner. With a sigh, he put his hands into his pockets and suddenly felt the hearing device in his pocket. He cursed inwardly. He had completely forgotten to plant it in her purse. Then again, it wasn't like he had the chance to. Her purse was no where in sight and it wasn't on his radar the moment he saw Charlotte. It had been a while since he had a confrontational conversation with someone who left him completely unfocused. It was unnerving.

With a sigh, he headed to the front door and walked out, closing the door behind him. Bruce felt the warm breeze blow through his hair as he walked down the steps. He paused and sat down on the second bottom step.

* * *

Madelyn smiled weakly at Alfred as they both heard the front door close. They had heard the entire conversation and although it didn't go the way they had hoped, Alfred was pleased to know that it was just a misunderstanding. Both Madelyn and Alfred silently agreed that they wished they hadn't heard about their physical encounter in Paris. In fact, Alfred had known that Bruce had met her in Paris. Charlotte had called the day after she had seen Bruce. It had been a large weight lifted off of the older man's shoulders to know that Bruce wasn't dead, simply missing by his own free-will. He had no idea that it would be nearly seven years before he'd hear from Bruce.

Alfred didn't stay for much longer and after rearranging another tea time with Mrs. Porter, he said goodbye.

Alfred wasn't pleased when he heard that Bruce didn't even accomplish what he intended to do when he came along with him to the Porter Estate. As they drove back home, Alfred shook his head and glanced at Bruce in the rear-view mirror.

"So, you have nothing to show for your effort today besides leaving their house looking like a complete arse," Alfred stated, his frustration to the younger man extremely visible.

As crudely as he put it, Bruce agreed.

Yes, he did act like an ass and if anything, he dug himself a deeper hole in Charlotte's mind. She was right about one thing. He didn't trust her and it was more than obvious that she didn't trust him.

"I apologized," Bruce admitted soberly. "But I doubt that she believed me."

"That's a good assumption considering your past and the accusations you two have formed. If you want her to believe you, you may want to do more than just apologize," Alfred suggested.

Bruce nodded and smiled as he understood what Alfred was suggesting to him.

"I think you're right, Alfred. I'd have to do with actions and not so much with words."

Alfred looked up in the rearview mirror at Bruce. The younger man was looking out the window, an odd smile on his face. Alfred would be lying to himself if he didn't feel a tinge of hope within him.

"May I ask why you're suddenly so concerned about having Miss Porter believe your apology?"

"If I'm going to somehow get this listening bug on her, I'll need her to trust me enough to get close."

That sudden hope was dashed.

Alfred scoffed and mumbled. "And here I thought it was because you genuinely cared for her or had an interest in Miss Porter."

Bruce scowled at Alfred. Bruce had heard Alfred's comment but didn't offer any retort. Alfred looked back at the road ahead of him and sighed inwardly.

"It was just a thought."


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N - I was planning on updating a few days ago, but I've been sick... I hope to have the next up in a few days. Thanks for the reviews and messages. I love hearing about what you think and appreciate your encouragement. :)_

* * *

Mia couldn't see. Her eyes were covered and her wrists were bound with rope at her back. They were so tight that she was certain that if she struggled too much that her shoulder would dislocate. That wasn't what frightened her.

Although she couldn't see, images would flash in front of her eyes. She would shriek but the duct tape over her mouth prevented from any screams. Instead, she moaned and cried as the horrible flashes of memories would haunt her. It was worse than any nightmare; this she couldn't wake from.

"That's her second dose," the man said, after he injected her with the drug. It was impressive how Mia would move from fits of rage and fear to becoming extremely passive. The man used that passiveness to his benefit to give her the drug with ease. "A few more and she should be ready."

"Wonderful. Our newest buyer wants her ready to go next week," Crane said.

The man nodded. "She'll be more...cooperative by then."

Crane smiled. "Now, tell me about this woman that you ran into while tracking down our Mia."

* * *

Batman kept to the shadows of the Porter Estate after he scaled the seven foot brick wall. He had climbed it once as a teen with Charlotte at his side as they had planned on going out to meet Rachel late at night, but this time it was easier. Perhaps it was because there were no distractions. Charlotte had asked him to help by hoisting her up being that she was shorter than he was. In an effort to prevent her from falling back on top of him, he had pushed her up with his hands on her ass to which neither had mentioned after that time.

The lights were all off within the large house as Batman nimbly made his way into the garage, bypassing the security system and picking the lock. The rest would be easy. Madelyn didn't own any dogs and as far as he knew, when they were home, the security system went only around the perimeter of the home.

He passed by the mud room, Madelyn's office, and a small den as he made his way down the large hallway towards the front staircase.

He kept to the shadows, listening for activity within the house. If Alfred knew what he was doing, he was certain the old man would skin him alive. But he knew that if he was going to get any information about what was going on inside the rec centre, he'd have to do this. He hoped that Charlotte kept her purse out in her room as he made his way through the house.

A slight sound, barely audible gave him to pause. His eyes glanced at the window beside him and when he caught a glimpse of a flash of light, he quickly turned, his hand grabbing ahold of the cast iron poker as it swung at him. His attacker was surprised, as he could tell by her eyes. Yet, deeper within her eyes, she was angry. It took him a few moments, to realize that it was Charlotte and she was still holding onto the handle of the poker. He said nothing as he yanked it out of her grip and dropped it to the floor, the sound of the metal hitting the marbled tiles echoing down the hall.

Charlotte stared, her auburn hair loose over her shoulders as she stood in her pajama pants and tank top.

Batman was in her house.

A killer was in her house.

She was nowhere near the guns that her grandmother locked away for moments like this and the phone was back in the den where she had fallen asleep hours earlier before being woken up by this intruder.

If he was going to kill her, she wasn't planning on going down without a fight and she was going to do everything in her power to protect the only person she had left in the world; her grandmother.

With that thought in mind, she attacked him with a quick jab to his face followed by a hook; both of which he blocked before she kicked him at his left knee. Batman backed up, realizing that she was relentless as she fought him. In her mind, she was fighting for her life.

When she swung at him again, Batman grabbed ahold of her hands and turned her around. Charlotte used her sudden confinement and put her foot behind Batman's in an attempt to cause him to stumble back.

It worked. It caught him off guard and he nearly tripped over his feet but it was enough for him to let her go. He didn't want to fight back but instead just defended himself. This was Charlotte after all. He did have to stop her though.

When she attacked him again, Batman ducked from the punch and when the jab came, he grabbed her wrist, and before she knew it, Charlotte had the wind knocked out of her as she landed on her back on the floor. It wasn't a hard landing, but it wasn't soft either. It also didn't help to know that both her legs and arms were pinned down by a man whom she, and the rest of the city, believed had killed Harvey Dent.

Bile rose in her throat knowing what was coming next. It wasn't something she wanted to think about.

Batman could see tears in the corner of her eyes although she glared at him.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it," Charlotte snapped at him, her face inches from his own.

The lack of fear in her eyes was unnerving to Batman. He wondered how much of that was often reflective in his own eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you," he growled back at her, almost insulted to hear the accusation. He had to remind himself once again that this was what he once wanted the world to believe; that he was the one who killed Harvey Dent.

"Then, what do you want?"

"Information," he growled. "On the rec center where you work."

Batman released her extremities and stood up, backing up from where Charlotte was laying on the floor. It took a moment before Charlotte herself pushed herself up to sit. Finally, she stood up and eyed Batman carefully.

"I'm not going to help a murderer," she stated. 'And someone who clearly has mental issues.' Charlotte saved that comment for herself.

"If I was going to kill you, I would have done it by now," Batman assured her.

She glared at him, not willing to believe him.

Charlotte scoffed. "How can I trust you?"

"I saved your life," he told her. "Those men in that alleyway would have killed you if I hadn't shown up. Take that as a token of good faith."

"Fine then," she said, somewhat hesitant, yet still not willing to let him come any closer. "What do you want to know?"

10 minutes after answering the few questions that he had with short, curt answers, Batman left. He simply wanted to know about her boss, the missing girls and if she had seen anything unusual going on. From her perspective, his breaking in wasn't warranted.

Charlotte picked up the cast iron poker and put it back by the fireplace before she checked the alarm system and ensured that all the doors and windows were locked before heading up the steps to go to bed. Her encounter with Batman caused her nerves to be unsettled. The way that he had easily managed to get into their house without setting off any alarm made her nervous. Even though he had assured her that he didn't mean her any harm, it was tough to believe a man whom everyone, including the police commissioner, was calling a murderer.

Her eyes passed over the phone, knowing that she should call the police. What would she even tell them? Batman was long gone and if anything, it would cause unwarranted stress on her grandmother to realize that he had been in their home.

With a sigh, Charlotte headed up into her bedroom. She glanced around the room and even checked her closet before climbing into bed. She had no desire to ever see that man again.

* * *

Bruce pulled at the collar of his white button up shirt as he made his way down the school hallway. He wasn't anticipating it being that warm within the school, even with the windows and doors open to let in the breeze. In contrast, the main office was nearly frigid when he had walked in, startling the secretary with his presence before she stammered over her words. Principal Shawn Davis was equally surprised but appeared unfazed by the billionaire. He welcomed Bruce to the school although he was surprised and slightly curious by his interest in Charlotte Porter's where-abouts.

After getting directions to Miss Porter's classroom, Bruce walked out of the office and back into that heat. The halls were empty. The sound of children playing outdoors for recess echoed inside. The school wasn't large and comprised of one long main hallway with two smaller halls leading to either end of the gymnasium. Bruce passed through metal detectors when he had originally walked in and could see the odd surveillance camera attached to the suspended ceiling.

When he came to the open door that he was instructed was Charlotte's classroom, he looked inside to find that it was empty. A series of 6 rows of desks with books sitting haphazardly on top of each one filled the room. The walls were covered with everything from artwork, to assignments and photo's. It appeared in that brief glance that Charlotte enjoyed what she did.

"What are you doing here?"

He knew that voice. Ironically, he heard the same tone in the words Charlotte had spoken to him two nights before.

Bruce put on a smile before he turned in the doorway to find Charlotte standing behind him, her arms holding a stack of colourful construction paper. Her hair was pulled away from her flushed face. He wasn't sure if he saw shock, panic or fear in her face. It frustrated him that he still couldn't read her like he used to.

"I thought that I made a wrong turn on my way to work," he quipped. He saw the briefest of smiles in her eyes. As quickly as he saw it, it disappeared.

He watched her glance down the hallway to ensure no one could see them before pushing him backward into her classroom and swiftly close the door behind her.

"Are you trying to make my life miserable?"

He watched her walk past him towards the large oak desk, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. She placed the stack of paper on top of it before running her hands over her face. She reached over to the fan on her desk and turned it on to high power in hopes of cooling herself down.

After speaking with him at her grandmother's house earlier that week, she was almost certain that she wouldn't be seeing Bruce again anytime soon. Hell, she thought that her reaction to his apology would be enough for him to leave her alone. So, to see him suddenly appear at her classroom door was a surprise.

"I wanted to talk with you," he told her.

"I thought we did that the other day."

"There are some things that I wanted to discuss."

"So naturally you thought of coming to my place of employment in the middle of my work day to bring up the subject," she stated. "I really don't want to get in an argument with you again, Bruce."

"That makes two of us," Bruce mumbled before he spoke again.

"Charlotte, I just need a minute."

After glancing up at the clock, she looked back at him and crossed her arms. "The bell will be going off anytime, so whatever it is you're going to say, you'd better say it now before you get an audience of 28 - eight and nine year olds."

As though the bell itself was against Bruce, it rang out the moment she finished speaking.

Bruce nodded, feeling the time pressure and thinking quickly as to how he'd be able to get access to her purse without even knowing where she had it in the classroom. Hell, it may not even be in the room. Just as he was about to speak, the door opened and a small group of rowdy and sweaty boys in t-shirts and shorts flooded into the room. A second later, another group of kids filed into the room. Bruce backed away from the door to allow the crowd to enter, smiling at the few that weren't too involved in conversation to make eye contact with the strange man in the room.

"I want you all to take out your geography textbook and turn to page 241!" Charlotte called out loudly over the hustle and bustle of the kids as they pulled out chairs and finished conversations around their desks. "Look over the review! There will be a surprise quiz in ten minutes!"

A unanimous groan was heard throughout the class. Bruce couldn't help but smile. Charlotte controlled the room effortlessly. He watched as the kids obeyed and dug out their textbooks from their desks. They continued to sulk as they slowly turned the pages.

"I would use this time wisely!" she suggested, before stepping towards the door. She gestured to Bruce to go out into the hallway. "If I hear any talking while I'm in the hallway, there will be a math quiz as well this afternoon."

The few conversations quickly ended and she pulled the door closed behind her, glancing through the window behind her head. She smiled curtly when she saw that her students were silently reading the textbook.

Charlotte turned to Bruce who stood beside her.

"Okay, you've got a minute," she told him, keeping her voice low and crossed her arms, before glancing down the hallway and behind her. It was empty and previously open doors had closed, beginning the classes once again.

This wasn't entirely going according to what Bruce thought it would. He presumed that he would have gotten the device in her purse long before now. He had originally hoped that Batman would have gotten the job done so he wouldn't have to be standing in the heat of the school. The time pressure wasn't helping either. He needed her to get her purse.

What do women keep in their purses anyways? Make up? Phones? Planners?

"I was wanting to ask you...if you were free to have dinner with me on Friday night."

Charlotte blinked, as she had been completely thrown for a loop. What the hell did he just say?

"Dinner?"

Bruce nodded.

Of all the things that he came up with, it was that. He mentally kicked himself for opening his big mouth. He watched as Charlotte was actually speechless. He felt a little smug in that moment.

This was not what she was expecting, certainly not after their last conversation. He had surprised her twice within fifteen minutes - once when he suddenly appeared in her classroom and then again, asking her to dinner.

"That's nice of you to ask, Bruce. I'm flattered," she said softly, her voice stuttering slightly. "But considering what has happened between us... I really don't think it's a good idea."

Bruce really wasn't surprised by her response. He didn't blame her. But he wasn't going to leave again without accomplishing what he intended to do. He was going to be persistent.

"Charlotte, it's only dinner and I figured that it's the least that I can do after everything that has happened," Bruce told her, smirking. "Besides, Alfred can make your favourite." He paused for a moment. "You still like cordon bleu, right?"

Charlotte wasn't sure if she should have been impressed that he remembered.

She nodded and then feigned disappointment. "I do, but I'm working another job on Friday night."

Something about turning him down felt good inside. She was certain that it wasn't everyday that someone refused the presence of Bruce Wayne.

"All right, what about Saturday?"

Charlotte was suddenly reminded of how persistent he could be. She knew that he wasn't going to give up or back down. Charlotte quickly glanced through the window into her classroom. She knew that she shouldn't stay out of the room for too much longer.

She sighed and turned towards the door. "Let me grab my phone and I'll check."

Bruce stood in the empty hallway, hands in his pockets as he watched Charlotte walk into her classroom through the window. A smirk appeared on his face when he watched her unlock the top drawer of her filing cabinet and pull out her purse. She pulled it onto her shoulder before re-locking the drawer and heading back towards the door. He watched her turn to her class and say a few words before opening the door and closing it behind her once again. With her purse dangling over one arm, she reached inside it with the other hand and pulled out her iphone. He watched as she shook her head.

"I'm busy Saturday night as well," she told him.

"No, she's free!"

The voice coming from behind Bruce caught both of their ears and Bruce turned to see a woman standing at an open classroom door. The sound of children playing echoed out into the hallway.

"We have plans," Charlotte told Bruce, gesturing to Amanda.

"Which we can change," Amanda added with a smile and a slightly wink in Bruce's direction. "Char, we can just go out for coffee if you want to go out with Mr. Wayne after. I wont be upset."

By the look on Amanda's face, there was no doubt in Charlotte's mind that the woman wouldn't be upset. Her eyes practically glowed as she stared at Bruce Wayne.

"If that's all right with you, that would work for me," Bruce said, looking at Charlotte.

There was no way that she could refuse and make a substantial reason behind it. Finally, she nodded.

"That's fine."

Charlotte watched a smile appear on his face before he held out his hand. "Give me your phone and I'll punch in my private cell number. You can let me know where and when to pick you up."

She passed him her iphone and glanced at Amanda as Bruce typed the number into her phone. Beneath her phone he held onto the small listening bug and instead of passing the phone back to her, he casually slipped it along with the bug into her purse.

"I'll see you Saturday."

With a final smile, he walked past her back towards the doors that he had originally entered. Behind him, Charlotte looked at Amanda, finding the woman smiling happily before slipping back into her classroom. With a sigh and a glance at Bruce as he walked away from her, Charlotte went back into her room.

She was slightly stunned as to what just happened. Her students seemed to notice her pause inside the door.

"Miss Porter? Are you all right?"

Charlotte looked at the young, dark haired boy at his desk, who looked at her with concern on his face. Finally, she smiled.

"Yes, Patrick," she replied. "I'm fine."

With an unusually content sigh, she walked over to the filing cabinet and proceeded to lock up her purse before starting her class.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N - Another update? Say it ain't so! It's a long one too... Everyone loves reviews, especially me. It's like chocolate. :)_

* * *

Flashing emergency lights reflected off the building walls as the police had blocked off the road to traffic and surrounded the area with police tape. Charlotte could see it as she made her way up the sidewalk. She hurried her steps when she realized that the situation was at the rec centre. She was on her way in to work for a few hours in the evening on Friday and was surprised to find she couldn't park where she usually did. As she quickly walked towards the building, Charlotte could see that the front windows had been smashed and saw some graffiti on the outside brick.

The police were doing a good job keeping the general public away from the scene and as much as Charlotte tried to allow them to let her pass, she wasn't getting permission. It wasn't until she saw the centre director, Jeffrey outside with the police commissioner, Jim Gordon.

Charlotte began calling out for Jeffrey, gaining both his attention and then that of the Commissioner. It wasn't long before the commissioner was waving her inside the police tape.

"What the hell happened?" Charlotte asked, getting her first up-close view of the front side of the building.

Jeffrey shrugged. "I was in the back office at the time. I heard the glass break and I grabbed the gun from the cabinet to find some guys wreaking havoc on this place. In those few seconds, they really did a number here; destroyed a few machines and spray painted the walls."

"Nothing was stollen, Mr. McClelland?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

Jeffrey shook his head. "If I wasn't armed, I don't know what would have happened. I only fired a warning shot into the air and they took off. I never saw their faces."

Gordon sighed, looking at Charlotte. "Are you free for a few minutes? I have some questions to ask."

Charlotte looked to Jeffrey before looking back at Gordon and nodded. She followed the Commissioner away from the front of the building and towards what she assumed to be his car.

"Have you heard from that young girl you brought in a while back? Mia, was it?"

"I haven't seen or heard from Mia," Charlotte said, glancing back at the building. "I'm afraid that something might have happened to her. If I had brought her somewhere safer..."

Gordon shook his head before putting his hand on Charlotte's shoulder. "It isn't your fault. I appreciate everything that you've been doing for this operation."

"She was afraid," Charlotte told him as Gordon crossed his arms. "She knew that they would come after her again. Did you get any hits from the man's description that I gave you?"

"Nothing yet. We'll find another way to track down this group," Gordon assured her, looking back at the centre's front doors. "I have other parties that are doing their part. It's just too bad that our front line against the disappearances has all gone to hell."

Charlotte silently wondered who these 'parties' were, for as far as she knew, Gordon headed up the investigation.

"Did any neighbours see anything?"

"If they did, no one is talking," Gordon replied. "I don't blame them either. Cross this group and this is what happens. I'm just glad it didn't occur when the place was full of people."

Charlotte agreed silently. As Gordon began to walk away from her, Charlotte spoke again.

"Commissioner, these interested parties that you mentioned," she began. "They wouldn't include the Batman, would they?"

He paused and turned, visibly stunned. "Why would you ask that?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I'm just curious."

"He's a murderer," he reminded her, his voice solemn and seemingly automatic. "And wanted by the Gotham PD."

For the few months that Charlotte had been working as his undercover informant in the investigation, she noticed that his tone was different than any other time that she had spoken with him. It sounded different.

"I'm aware of that. But the department has worked with him."

"In the past and indirectly, yes. He did help us bring down some of the major crime families in Gotham."

"Could you trust him?"

A wry smile appeared on Gordon's face as he glanced around them before walking up closer to her.

"Off the record," Gordon began. "I could trust him with my life."

Charlotte paused, thinking.

"And now, knowing that he killed someone?"

Gordon looked at her, realizing that there was more going on that she was letting on.

"Why are you so interested in the Batman, Miss Porter?"

Charlotte glanced around, ensuring that no officers were nearby. He knew about how she had found Mia in the alleyway with the gang, but Charlotte had never mentioned to him that Batman was there as well.

"If everyone is saying that he's a murderer, why did he save us? Instead, he stopped the men who were attacking us, giving us the chance to get away."

Gordon smirked. He knew there was more than just that time. "And he's since asked you for information on this investigation, am I right?"

Charlotte nodded. "He asked me questions about the centre. I don't know how I can trust him when I know he's killed these people last year."

Gordon shrugged, turning to look back at the front of the rec centre building, his officers walking in and out of the door while another took evidence photo's.

"I don't know what to tell you," he began. "Trust is something that is gained. But it appears that since our investigation at this place has come to an end, we could use all the help we can get."

* * *

Charlotte stared down into her cup, praying that her foamed espresso would somehow turn into a strong vodka. She was needing something more than the caffeine right about then. She wasn't sure if she was nervous or dreading the dinner with Bruce. Charlotte would by lying to herself to think that she didn't find Bruce attractive. She always found him easy on the eyes, even as she grew up. She had learned a lot since then. She had fortified that wall around her heart after Bruce had first broken through it and took a part of her with him. She wasn't about to let that happen again.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Charlotte broke out of her reverie and looked up into Amanda's blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, apologetically. "What were you saying?"

"I said that I was considering riding an antelope to work on Monday while wearing a zebra-print leggings and I was going to bring you a leopard-print one," Amanda said, breaking into a grin. "And you said that it would be great."

Charlotte chuckled and ran an embarrassed hand over her face. "I didn't hear that."

"No kidding," Amanda added. "You were in your own little world there for a bit. Are you nervous?"

Charlotte shrugged. "Of course not. It's only Bruce Wayne. He's an old friend of the family."

She purposely neglected to mention any form of physical relationship of the past. It certainly wouldn't be good information to pass along to her 'Bruce Wayne infatuated' friend.

Amanda smiled. "I would be. Dang it, you're going out with Bruce Wayne."

"I don't think it's a big deal."

"No kidding," Amanda quipped. "You could have dressed up a bit more. Impress him a bit."

Charlotte smirked at Amanda's comment. She was dressed casual with her skinny dark wash jeans, pink flip-flops, off white sweater and light coral necklace around her neck. It wasn't very often that she had the chance to wear jeans. As a teacher at the school, she would wear a skirt or black dress pants with a blouse. Maybe a handful of times a year they would have a dress-down day.

Charlotte pushed her auburn hair back behind her ear before looking down at her watch.

"He's late," Amanda concluded. "Maybe he's having car trouble."

Charlotte scoffed. "I'll give him another five minutes and then I'm eating here."

Charlotte didn't have to give him another four because he walked in the door of the small coffee shop barely late. Amanda was the first to spot him and smiled.

"He made it."

Maybe she was nervous because the words that Amanda spoke suddenly sent her heart into her throat. Perhaps she was wondering if his reason behind asking her out was genuine. Charlotte found that she still couldn't trust his word.

"Sorry I'm a little late," Bruce said, smiling and looking at Charlotte. She smiled curtly before standing up and saying goodbye to Amanda.

She tried to ignore the stares and the whispers as they made their way out of the coffee shop. Apparently it wasn't common to see Bruce Wayne in that area of the city. Then again, it wasn't common to see Bruce Wayne looking so casual with jeans and a polo shirt. He seemed relaxed and at ease as he drove the Lamborghini through the Gotham traffic towards Wayne Manor. Charlotte didn't know why she even agreed to going to dinner with him. She had been dreading it since he had asked.

The conversation was light as Bruce would ask her about her week at the school and how her grandmother was. Charlotte asked him about Alfred and how work was. They kept within those parameters, not willing to venture into other topics.

Bruce still didn't know why he didn't just cancel their plans after he managed to get the bug on her. He had to admit that he was a bit intrigued after overhearing her conversation with Commissioner Gordon the night prior. And it was not just with her opinion of Batman but also the fact that she had been working as Gordon's informant. Besides, after Alfred heard that he had asked her over for dinner and went on to tell Mrs. Porter the news, there was no possible way that he would be able to cancel without a good explanation; especially to Mrs. Porter who was so happy to hear that the two were possibly reconciling.

Bruce and Charlotte would both have to simply bite the proverbial bullet for the evening.

Alfred was more than happy to see Charlotte walk into the house. He ushered her into the kitchen to savour the tastes that he had been busy working on for them. Charlotte didn't mind the added attention. She always loved Alfred and his fatherly affection.

It wasn't until she turned in the kitchen to realize that Bruce had disappeared somewhere between them walking into the house and Alfred dragging her into the kitchen with him.

"Where did Bruce go?"

Alfred smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "That my dear, is a surprise." He looked down at his watch and nodded. "Come with me. He should have it ready by now."

Before Charlotte had the chance to even question what Alfred was meaning, the older man took her by the arm and led her through the house towards the back patio door; the same door that she had snuck out of the night of the benefit party. He pushed the door open to allow Charlotte out onto the dark veranda. The sun had already gone down and the heat of the day was being ushered away by the cool of the night.

The smell of campfire struck her instantly as a dark figure walked towards her, the light of a campfire behind him.

"What do you think?" Bruce asked, coming up beside her. Alfred quietly stepped back into the house while Bruce led her down the stone steps and towards a small bonfire in the yard with a picnic blanket on the ground a few meters away.

Charlotte was beaming, a smile on her face. "What's going on?"

"I remembered how much you enjoyed those summer bonfires we had years ago here, so..." he said, gesturing to the fire. "Here's your first one of the summer."

As nostalgic as it was, she couldn't help but remember the wonderfully smelling meal that was being prepared in the kitchen. The smile faded.

"But Alfred worked hard on that dinner."

Charlotte could see Bruce's face as he turned to her in the darkness. "We're having it out here. Wait right here."

Charlotte turned to watch Bruce walk back towards the house, his shadow disappearing into the darkness before she could only hear the sound of the door close behind him. With a sigh, she turned back to the blanket and saw that there was also a bag of marshmallows sitting on it. Charlotte sat down and looked up at the early night sky, seeing the ashes of the fire rise into the air.

She was trying so hard to be angry with him. Her personal intentions of the evening were simple; she'd go, be civil and go home. End of story. No where did she want to have fun and enjoy herself. This was Bruce Wayne after all. He had broken her heart and stolen from her.

The smell of the fire and the sounds of the night were relaxing. It reminded her of times where her world didn't seem so confusing. For a moment, she even closed her eyes to remember. Charlotte was lost in that time until she heard the veranda door close and Bruce make his way across the lawn.

His arms were full; two plates of food in each hand, a wine bottle under one arm and two wine glasses pined between the other arm and his side. Charlotte eased his load and took the plates before he knelt down on the blanket.

"Why are you doing all this?" Charlotte suddenly asked Bruce in the midst of him sitting down beside her.

His shrugged. "I figured that it was the least that I could do after everything that has happened."

She took the plate and they both began to eat. The only sound for a short time were the crickets in the darkness and the crackling of the fire in front of them.

Bruce had nearly forgotten how quiet it could be outside at night. It had been a while since he had the chance to just sit. As unsure that he was when he arranged the dinner date with Charlotte, he was now glad that he did. He found that he was enjoying himself.

He wasn't the only one. Charlotte nearly forgot their heated argument from the week prior. As angry and frustrated as she was with him, it was hard to keep a grudge when his apology was so sincere in his actions. It wasn't about to make up for what happened, but it was a start.

"Don't forget, you still owe me some money too," she reminded him with a smile, before playfully nudging him with her shoulder. "And I'm taking interest on that, plus inflation."

Bruce laughed and nodded. "You've got a deal. But I may need to get a calculator out."

Charlotte looked at him, thinking. It had been years since she had heard him let out a genuine laugh. The last time would have been when they were racing through the yard with Rachel.

Rachel.

Charlotte looked up at the night sky, seeing the stars appear more and more as the darkness blanketed the sky.

"Can I ask you something, Bruce?"

"Sure."

"How come you never went to Rachel's funeral?"

The question suddenly caused Bruce's throat to tighten. He remembered that day and how he sat quietly in the penthouse, as the tears fell. He felt guilty over allowing the Joker to kill Rachel. It was something he never forgave himself for. Bruce couldn't bring himself to attend her funeral, believing that he was the reason that she was gone.

When Bruce didn't reply but instead took a sip of wine, Charlotte continued. "Her Mom asked me about you. I think that she hoped that you would be there."

"I never liked funerals," he told her softly. "That, and I didn't want to say goodbye."

Charlotte smiled weakly at him. His eyes were focused on the bonfire in front of them. She turned and looked at the fire with him. She knew that he and Rachel were close. Charlotte had spoken to Rachel a few times after she returned to Gotham, they have even gone out for lunch twice. Charlotte was also aware that Rachel had been dating Harvey Dent at the time.

"I feel bad for Harvey Dent," Charlotte commented, causing Bruce to glance at her while she continued to stare into the fire. Realizing his eyes were on her, she turned to look at him, the light of the fire dancing on his face. "Not only did he lose Rachel but then the Batman killed him."

Something flashed across Bruce's face. She was certain she saw it, but she dismissed it for sadness.

"Do you really believe that?"

Charlotte shrugged. "It's hard not to when everyone, including the police commissioner is saying it." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Why? You don't think so?"

Bruce turned to look into the fire and was about to speak when he grabbed the bag of marshmallows beside him. He stood up before smiling down at her, determined to change the subject. The light of the bonfire casted a soft glow against his face.

"If we're going to toast these, we're going to need some good sticks," Bruce said with a smirk. "Care to help me find some?"

He held out his hand towards her. With a smile, Charlotte took his hand and he pulled her up to stand before they walked out towards the treeline and away from the light of the fire.

It had been a while since Bruce had been in that area of the property but even in the darkness, he knew it like the back of his hand. He could hear Charlotte walking behind him, taking cautious, careful steps in the dark. He had to smirk as his mind wandered back to how he found her in her house and the way she attacked Batman. Here, she was out of her element. He knew that she hated snakes, mice and anything that seemed to hide beneath the brush in the darkness. This certainly wasn't the same woman that he had encountered then.

He paused when he came to a familiar tree. In the dark, he looked up still able to see the shadows of pieces of wood on top of the larger tree branches. Charlotte looked up when she realized where they were.

"I remember it being higher," she told him.

"I suppose to a ten year old, this tree is huge."

Charlotte chuckled and agreed as Bruce put a foot on the bottom rung, testing the sturdiness of it before reaching for the next one.

"Don't you dare climb it," she warned him, causing Bruce to look back at her, questioning. "You'll break your neck."

He was well aware of her fear of heights as it had been established after her first visit to Wayne Manor. He never mocked her, knowing that it stemmed from the events that led to her parents death and nearly her own.

"I doubt that it would hold my weight anyways," Bruce said, before jumping down to the ground. Although he landed firmly, Charlotte didn't quite believe that he would and reached out, putting her hands onto his back in an effort to steady his landing.

Bruce glanced over his shoulder. Charlotte smiled sheepishly before lowering her hands and turning away from him to search for those sticks that they originally went looking for. Charlotte bent over and picked up a stick, holding it up to check its strength.

"So, your grandma told me that you teach kick boxing," Bruce said, walking up beside her.

Charlotte nodded. "Taught it. The rec centre is closed right now because of vandalism."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Bruce told her. "How did you get into doing something like that anyways?"

Charlotte watched as Bruce crouched down and picked up a handful of sticks, sifting through them for the best one.

"Honestly, it was something I did when I was in Paris to meet men," she told him, feeling a bit foolish and began chuckling.

Bruce laughed.

"Seriously?"

Charlotte nodded.

"I worked my way up, did a few tournaments and later certified myself to become an instructor as well as teach hand to hand," she told him. "And now I also teach basic self-defence."

"So, you must be good then."

Charlotte shrugged modestly. "I could teach you if you're interested."

Bruce laughed. "I wouldn't be a good student." He paused for a moment. "But did it work?"

"What work?"

"The part where you intended to meet men."

She shrugged in the darkness. "To an extent. The men that I met there avoided me for the most part. I guess I caught on quicker than they did and it didn't do well for their self-esteem to have a foreign girl half their size beat the crap out of them."

While Charlotte continued to laugh, Bruce picked up another stick and held it up.

"I've got my stick."

"Mine too," Charlotte stated, holding up her own.

Together, they walked back to the bonfire and began to roast the marshmallows on the ends of the sticks that they had found. As the evening wore on, the fired began to die down. Charlotte looked down at her watch.

"I can't believe that it's already after midnight," she commented, causing Bruce to look down at his own watch. In reality he knew what time it was. It had been a while since he had such a good time and he really wasn't wanting the night to end so soon. He had grown so tired of the playboy mask that he forgot what it was like to be him.

Bruce could sense her desire to head home.

"I'll give you a ride home."

The pair stood up and gathered as much as they could carry back into the house.

"Grandma will most likely still be up, waiting to hear about what happened tonight."

Bruce opened the door and held it open for Charlotte before following her in.

"What will you tell her?"

"The truth," Charlotte replied. They made their way through the house towards the side door where Bruce had originally parked the Lamborghini when they first arrived.

"Which is?"

"That once again, you surprised me," she said, smirking. "I was planning on having an evening with the arrogant jerk that I ran into a few weeks ago and see countless times on television or the man whom I got into a verbal argument with." She paused for a moment. "But instead, it was nice. It makes me wonder why you act like that when underneath you haven't changed at all."

"A lot has happened," he simply commented.

Charlotte nodded in agreement. "Yes, it has."

They barely spoke a word while Bruce drove her home. Slowly he pulled the Lamborghini up the long driveway towards the front of the house. The inside lights were out, and Charlotte assumed that her grandmother had given up waiting for her. She turned to Bruce.

"Thank you for tonight, Bruce," Charlotte said, softly. "It was a lot of fun."

"It was. We should do it again sometime."

The thought of spending more time with Charlotte was something he never intended to want to do but here he was, considering it. Bruce never wanted to enjoy himself. To him, the evening was to be like another mission - planned. But somewhere, the game changed.

"We should."

With a smirk, Bruce reached for his car door. "I'll walk you to your door."

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she pushed her door open and stood up, catching his gaze overtop of the roof of the Lamborghini.

"Bruce, you don't have to do that."

"No, I'm walking you to your door," he stated defiantly, as he met her at the hood of the car. Together, they walked side by side in the darkness towards the steps that would lead them to the front door.

"I may have not seen you for years but I still know when you're doing something with an ulterior motive," Charlotte chided, keeping her voice down.

Bruce chuckled.

"You've got me," he said, looking at his feet as they made their way up the steps. "Actually, I was just wanting to ask, would you want..."

He paused when he realized that Charlotte had suddenly stopped moving up the steps. He turned towards her and noticed her face had paled and her eyes were fixed on the front door. Bruce followed her gaze and noticed what she had seen. Before he had a chance to say another word, Charlotte let go of his arm and bounded up the last few steps. Her feet stepped onto the broken pieces of window glass that had fallen from the door and pushed the barely open door wide.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N - I wrote and re-wrote this so many times. I don't like writing such angst and I find it hard to do it. The reactions, the words...all of it. In the end, this is what happened. I hope my readers enjoy and review. I'm working on the next chapter and hope to have it out by the end of the week...possibly sooner if you bug me enough. :) I think I may need some prodding._

* * *

"Charlotte, wait. It's not safe," Bruce whispered, putting his hand onto her shoulder as he eyed the inside entryway carefully. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, holding it towards her. "Stay here. Take my phone and call the police. I'll check it out."

Charlotte shrugged Bruce's hand off her shoulder and took a step into the house, dropping her purse to the ground before reaching for her grandmother's umbrella that was kept by the door.

"I'm not about to let you go in by yourself," she said, holding the umbrella in her arms, preparing to use it against any intruder that she could encounter. "Besides, you and I both know that you have no self-defence skills whatsoever."

"I can take care of myself," Bruce whispered to her as they walked slowly into the darkened house. Again, Charlotte scoffed.

"Sure you can," Charlotte mumbled. "I'll just forget that swollen lip that you got in high school."

Bruce did hear her comment but decided not to respond. He was busy noting their surroundings and ensuring that Charlotte was right beside him at all times.

They went room by room on the first floor, finding nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything was in its place and except for the broken front door window, nothing was destroyed. There wasn't anything missing.

Together, they made their way up the stairs, pushing open doors and finding that the entire second floor was empty. It really concerned Charlotte when she found Madelyn's bedroom empty. She checked her ensuite as Bruce opened the closets. It did appear that she was once in the bed, as the sheets and blankets were pulled back.

"She's not here," Charlotte concluded, as Bruce nodded.

"Not anymore at least," he said, his tone grim as he looked to the empty bed.

Charlotte swallowed, her heart beating fast in her chest.

"Maybe she was scared and headed to the neighbours house to call for the police," Charlotte suggested before she made her way to the door. "I'll give the Klundert's a call and see if they know of anything."

Bruce let out a breath, as he ran his hand through his hair before pulling out his cell phone again. He knew that Madelyn being missing wasn't a good thing.

"I'll call the police to at least inform them of a possible break in," he called out to Charlotte as she left the room.

Charlotte listened as Bruce spoke to the dispatcher. She let out a sigh before leaving the bedroom and Bruce and headed back down the steps. Charlotte wasn't on a first name basis with the neighbours but she was aware that Madelyn would often speak with Mrs. Klundert near the back of the property when the woman was outside.

She flipped on the kitchen light and pulled out the drawer beside the sink where she knew that Madelyn kept her address book. Charlotte realized that they probably wouldn't welcome the early morning call, but this wasn't any usual circumstance. As she flipped through the pages of the small address book, she glanced out the window above the sink, debating on whether she should just run next door instead.

That's when she saw her.

* * *

Bruce was heading down the stairs, still on the phone with the dispatcher, when he heard Charlotte shouting for him in a tone that caused his heart to jump into his throat. No amount of training he had endured in the Himalayas would ever prevent a reaction to such a pain-filled, fearful cry.

"Bruce!"

He raced down the steps, jumping down the final four to the floor before rushing towards the bright kitchen; his feet sliding on the marble tiles as he made it to the doorway. The kitchen was empty, but the back patio door was wide open.

"Charlotte?!" Bruce yelled out, running towards the back door. He looked out to see her kneeling on the ground beside a form in the grass. As he quickly approached, it was obvious that the form was Madelyn in her nightgown; a crimson stain emerging from her chest. Charlotte had her hands pressed firmly to the wound, blood seeping around her fingers.

Looking to Madelyn's face, he saw her gasp each breath she took. The woman seemed weak.

Bruce dropped to his knees and put his hands over Charlotte's, in an effort to stop the bleeding. It was obvious to Bruce that they were fighting a loosing battle.

"Who did this?" Bruce asked her.

Madelyn smiled hauntingly, seeming to look past Bruce. Suddenly, she looked back into Bruce's eyes.

"Mask," she gasped.

"Mask? Grandma, what do you mean? You couldn't see his face?"

Charlotte spoke so fast as her heart was beating so quickly. When Madelyn took a painful gasp of air, Charlotte's eyes watered.

"Grandma, just breathe. Don't talk."

Again, the old woman smiled at Charlotte before she weakly raised her hand and touched Bruce's arm. Although she had barely enough strength to lift her arm, Madelyn squeezed Bruce's arm tightly and lifted her head slightly before tugging his arm towards her.

Bruce seemed to understand and leaned over, allowing the woman to speak ever-so-softly into his ear. He sat back up after she spoke a few words and he nodded.

Again, Madelyn gasped for a breath, closing her eyes slightly against the strenuous effort that it took just to breathe. In the distance, they could hear the sound of approaching emergency vehicles.

"Hold on, just a little longer, Grandma," Charlotte pleaded, realizing that Madelyn's breathing efforts were becoming fewer and far between. When her eyes no longer opened, Charlotte still continued.

"Breathe," Charlotte whispered, tears in her eyes. "Please breathe."

Even as the EMT's came through the house and into the backyard, Charlotte continued her desperate plea. She seemed to be in her own world; in complete denial over what she was seeing.

It couldn't be real. It had to have been a dream.

She didn't even hear the EMT's gently ask her to move away. They obviously were aware that the situation was grave and the amount of blood around them signalled that it wasn't going to end well.

Finally, Charlotte moved away almost robotically as one of the EMT's checked for a pulse.

"I have a pulse," he announced. "Breathing is extremely laboured. We need to get her out of here now."

Charlotte backed up, watching as the EMT's worked quickly to strap her grandmother to the gurney before rushing her to the waiting ambulance in the front yard. Charlotte followed with Bruce not too far behind.

The lights of the emergency vehicles lined up in the front driveway was almost overwhelming. She kept her eye on where Madelyn was being taken and didn't even notice the officer that was speaking to her, trying to get her attention.

"Excuse me, Miss Porter?"

It wasn't until he touched her arm and she jerked that she noticed him there.

"I'm Officer Campbell," he said, watching her carefully and noting the dried blood on her hands and shirt. "I have a few questions to ask you regarding what happened."

"My house was broken into and my grandmother was murdered. What more do you need to know?!" Charlotte snapped, sidestepping the Officer to find the ambulance, only to see it quickly drive off the property. She ignored Campbell's futile attempt to convince her that she may still live.

Charlotte quickly turned and headed towards the house. She knew what she was going to do. She pushed through the officers taking photo's of the front door and broken glass and grabbed her purse off the floor, not breaking her stride through the house.

It wasn't until she was in the garage and taking out her keys for the appropriate car that someone grabbed her by the arm. Charlotte swung around, dropping her keys in the process, preparing to hit whomever was stopping her. Instead, to her surprise, Bruce ducked.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands in surrender. "It's just me."

He quickly bent over and picked up the keys from the garage floor.

Charlotte held open her hand towards him. "Bruce, give me the keys."

"You really shouldn't be driving right now," Bruce told her, walking over to her. "If you want a ride to the hospital, I can give you one."

"I'm not going to the hospital, Bruce," Charlotte told him, as she put down her purse on the hood of the car and crossed her arms "You saw the blood. She was barely alive when she left. She's not going to make it and no amount of me sitting there is going to do anything. That bastard did this and I'm going to find him and kill him."

The admission caught him by surprise. He was no stranger to vengeful thoughts but to hear it from someone else, someone whom he would never expect, caught him off guard. He was determined to convince her to not leave, especially in her current state.

"Charlotte, that's not a road that you want to go down, and besides, we don't even know who did it."

She nodded her head. "Oh yes I do. It was the Batman, and I'm going to do what should have been done after he killed Dent. I'm going to kill him."

Charlotte's declaration hit him right between the eyes. Madelyn had said that the man who came into the house had a mask, but not once did Bruce assume that Charlotte would believe it to be Batman. He shook his head.

"Charlotte, I'm not going to let you do something like that. Running off on a vengeful mission against Batman isn't something that Madelyn would have wanted you to do. Believe me."

Behind her eyes, Bruce could see the pain. It was almost clear as day.

"Bruce, this doesn't concern you," Charlotte stated. "This is my business. Now, give me my damn keys!"

Bruce glared defiantly at her, as he put the keys into his pant pocket. "No."

Charlotte took a deep, exasperated breath as they both stared at each other for another second. Suddenly, Charlotte clenched her fist and swung at Bruce. What she wasn't expecting was for him to catch her fist within his palm, effectively stopping it. With the other fist, she attempted to upper cut him in the chin but found his arm raise up and block it before twisting to grab her other arm.

Bruce looked down in front of him to see each of Charlotte's arms, effectively in his grasp. She was breathing heavily, the anger boiling over inside of her. But as he watched her face, he saw that anger melt away and transform into something so familiar to him. Her eyes watered as her bottom lip began to tremble. Feeling her begin to relax within his grasp, Bruce let go of her hands and she put them to her face, just as she began to sob.

"I can't do this again," she cried. "I don't want to do this again."

In his life, Bruce had only seen Charlotte cry a handful of times and the majority, if not all, the circumstances were all due to physical pain. Seeing her mourn in such deep sadness was heart-wrenching.

He took a step forward and put his arms around her, pulling her towards him. Charlotte put her head to his chest as she continued to cry. If he was braver, he would whisper comforting words into her ear. He chased down criminals with ease, went into dark, horrible places without a backward glance but when it came to showing how much he cared, he had never been really brave.

Charlotte appreciated the silent gesture. She knew that Bruce was the single most person who could somewhat relate to what she was experiencing. It was comforting to know that she wasn't alone. For some reason, she felt safe and comfortable with Bruce's arms around her. The dozens of police officers outside were forgotten. At that moment, this was important.


	11. Chapter 11

5 days later

Bruce sighed as he turned off the car radio. He had heard enough from the news coverage regarding Madelyn Porter's funeral and memorial, plus the state of the company along with the current company stock prices. Porter Investment stocks had slipped with the news of Madelyn's death and again after news that her grand-daughter would most likely be taking the role as company owner. Reporters stated that the share holders had cause for concern considering it was reported that Charlotte had no business background and simply stated that she was currently employed by a lower end school board in the city. The report didn't boast well for the future of the company and he knew that Charlotte was well aware that the future of Porter Investment's rested on her.

He pulled into the driveway at the Porter Estate and up to the house. Two days prior, it had been filled with vehicles; mourners for the memorial that was held at the home. It had been Madelyn's wish that the funeral be set apart for simply her family and close friends, leaving the memorial for others who wished to pay their respect. The property was quiet that afternoon, except for the birds that sang happily in the trees, completely unaware of the pain that had transpired over the past few days.

Bruce climbed out of the car and retrieved the warm casserole that Alfred had prepared for Charlotte that morning from the back seat. He made his way up the steps and rang the doorbell. He waited for a few moments.

Nothing.

He rang the bell again, his concern growing with each passing second that Charlotte didn't answer.

Finally, he heard the door unlock and the door slowly open. The sight that he saw wasn't completely unexpected, but it was shocking just the same. Alfred had visited Charlotte the day prior and told him how depressed she appeared.

"Bruce," Charlotte said, before clearing the hoarseness from her voice. She was surprised to see him. "I'm sorry. I must have dozed off."

It was 1:10pm.

Bruce smiled. "I should be the one apologizing. I'm sorry to have woken you."

Charlotte had bags under her eyes, her face free of makeup, her hair was pulled back haphazardly into a ponytail and her slender frame was hidden beneath the loose fitting t-shirt and jogging pants.

"I brought this over for you," he said, kindly gesturing to the covered glass casserole dish in his arms as he held it out towards her. "Alfred made it for you this morning and asked that I drop it off before heading into the city."

That much was obvious. He was wearing a business suit with tie and his hair was meticulously in place. He was the sheer opposite of her at the moment. Not only could Charlotte smell his expensive cologne the moment she had opened the door, but also the casserole. On any other day, it would have made her stomach growl but at that moment, her stomach lurched. Her diet over the past few days had consisted of her grandmother's scotch, and whatever her stomach could handle. She didn't have much of an appetite to begin with.

"Thank you," Charlotte said with a smile, taking it from him. As she momentarily let go of the door, Bruce saw two large bankers boxes resting just inside the house.

"Are you moving out?"

Charlotte followed his gaze and shook her head.

"No, legal came by this morning," she told him, grimly. Bruce knew what that would mean. "You're looking at the new owner and CEO of Porter Investments."

The smile she wore was forced; that was clear to him as day.

"And after finding out that I have to attend the next shareholders meeting in two weeks, I had Grandma's accountant bring over the financials and minutes of their prior meetings so I can get up to speed. I've been told that there are another four at the office." She sighed and shook her head. "Unfortunately, I may as well be reading Latin."

"Well, if you're needing any help with it, I'd be happy to help. I've sat through my fair share of shareholders meetings."

Charlotte smirked.

"I appreciate that Bruce, but you don't have to."

"I know," he told her with a smile. "I want to. I have some time right now, if you want to go over anything."

Charlotte bit her lip. She was needing the help but at the same time, she did not want to accept it. Here was Bruce, literally standing at her door, offering to assist her in making sense of the new language she was trying to understand. As much as a punch it took to her pride, she finally nodded and held open the door, allowing Bruce to walk in.

Bruce closed the door behind her and picked up one of the boxes and followed her into the dining room. She directed him where to put the box on the table, but his eyes couldn't help but notice that the opposite end of the long table was covered in photos, of Batman.

"What's this?" he asked, walking over to the vast amount of photographs spread out on the table.

She shrugged, rushing up beside him, slightly embarrassed that he had noticed what she had been doing for the past day or so. "Just doing some research."

"On Batman?"

She nodded. "If I'm going to find him, I'm going to have to figure out how to find him."

"You still believe that Batman killed her?"

Charlotte nodded silently.

"Charlotte, you shouldn't be doing this. I don't want anything to happen to you," Bruce said.

Charlotte looked at Bruce, seeing something in his eyes. He wasn't being fake with his words. He was being sincere. He meant it.

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Bruce. I've seen how Batman moves. There are certain spots that he tends to prefer more than others. If I focus on those other places, then maybe I can..."

"Can what? Kill him?"

She shrugged soberly. "The thought did cross my mind."

Charlotte watched as Bruce looked down at the photo's. She had no clue what was going through his mind either than disappointment.

"Rachel told me that you were going to kill Chill if Falconi's men didn't get to him first," Charlotte said softly. "So, don't tell me about revenge not being the answer when that was the route you were going to take."

Bruce nodded, knowing that she had a point.

"I can tell you one thing though," Bruce said, putting the picture of Batman in his hand back on the table. "Even after Chill was dead, that pain didn't leave."

"Then what helped?"

"Nothing," Bruce softly replied. "It never left. It has dulled over the years but it's still there."

When neither one said anything for a few seconds, Charlotte walked back over to the bankers box and pulled off the lid before taking out the files and stacking them beside the box. Bruce walked up beside her and opened the first file.

"So, how are you going to do it? Balancing working at the school and operating a company?"

Charlotte shrugged. It was something that was bothering her all morning since the notary had left. She was still on bereavement leave for another day and thankfully being that it was the end of the school year, there wasn't much of anything new to cover in class with the substitute. She had assigned review work until the end of the school year. But even if she didn't return for the rest of the year, the question would still be there in the fall.

"Honestly, I don't know," Charlotte told him. "I love my students and my job there. It's rough but I'm not there for the pay. I have no idea how I'll manage to do both."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Bruce said, smiling.

Before long, the entire length of the table was covered with files, forms and papers. Bruce sat in one chair along the length with Charlotte sitting directly across from him. His suit jacket had long been abandoned and was resting on the back of the chair behind him. He had his dress shirt sleeves rolled up as he went over various documents with Charlotte; answering questions and explaining what they meant. Somewhere along the line, Charlotte had made them both tea, which had long gone cold. Even when Bruce realized that he lost track of time and wouldn't be able to make it into the office, he called to let them know and then surprised Charlotte by ordering them Chinese take-out for dinner which arrived at the house shortly after 5.

Charlotte had realized during that time that her appetite was returning. She was enjoying Bruce's company, even if it was to go over financial reports. As she was beginning to understand the hierarchy of the business and the ins and outs of the financial aspect of it, she realized how much she had missed having someone to talk to. Living alone in the large house was intimidating, especially knowing that someone had broken into it less than a week ago. That feeling of being alone was unnerving. So when Bruce stood up, realizing the time and that he should go, Charlotte felt her heart leap. It was an unfamiliar and strange feeling. Still, she agreed and followed him to the door.

"I hope that I was able to help a bit," he said, as he put his arms through his coat and pulled it up over his shoulders.

"You helped a great deal," Charlotte said, almost timidly. "I really appreciate it. Thank you"

"You're welcome. I'm glad that I could help," Bruce said, smiling as he looked at her. "Let me know if you ever need anything."

Charlotte reached for the door and opened it for him, feeling the cool humidity of the early evening air sweep into the house. Bruce stepped out onto the porch as Charlotte stood by the door. All the while, Bruce was contemplating asking something. He knew that it would be awkward, but at the same time, he didn't want to give up the opportunity. He was enjoying getting to know Charlotte again, and found that as much as she had changed, she was still the same. Everything that he had loved about her years ago, was still there, just below the surface, hidden beneath the pain.

He took a step down from the porch and suddenly turned, catching Charlotte's attention.

"That new aquarium is going to open up to the public in a few weeks," Bruce said, feeling his heart race slightly and noted that he actually stuttered a bit as he spoke. He never stuttered and he quickly covered it up with a smile. "I arranged a time to go get a private tour of it tonight. Would you want to come with me?"

He had invited her to his house for dinner just last week and not once did he feel like this when he had asked her. It was unsettling.

When he noticed that she didn't reply right away he continued. "If you're busy or don't want to, that's fine with me."

"No, no," Charlotte quickly answered. "I'd love to go. Do I have time to get ready?"

Bruce nodded. "I'll wait."

Bruce watched as Charlotte smiled broadly for the first time that day and turn to run inside. He, himself couldn't help but smile and was glad that she accepted his offer to join him. Even minutes after he had asked and he was waiting by his car, the rational part of him was berating him for becoming interested in Charlotte. That was never part of the plan. She was supposed to be his inside person into the mysterious disappearances. He couldn't help but reminisce about the simpler times when they were children. He completely ignored the fact that they hated each other for some time. He had to appreciate that they could disagree, speak hateful words at each other and then be able to shake hands, before putting it behind them. That type of friendship was rare. He wasn't about to let this opportunity pass.

* * *

As Bruce and Charlotte pulled out of the gated property and onto the road, neither one was aware of the car sitting in the shadows just off the road. The driver picked up his phone.

"Yeah, she just left with some guy in a fancy car," the driver said into the phone, glancing up in the rear-view mirror at Bruce's car disappearing down the road. "I'll let you know when she returns."


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N - I was going to wait until next week to post this, but oh well... It's Victoria Day weekend in Canada and I'm planning on spending it outside, at the fairs, parties and parades...I wouldn't be touching it anyways. So, here it is early. Have a great weekend!_

* * *

Fish, sharks and rays of different sizes swam around them as Bruce and Charlotte walked through the tunnel at the aquarium. Bruce walked with his hands in his pockets, smiling at Charlotte's exuberance at taking photographs of the various types of creatures they were seeing.

"My students would love this," she stated, looking up as a ray rested peacefully along the glass top of the tunnel. "This is amazing."

"It certainly is," Bruce agreed, half-heartedly.

Charlotte looked at Bruce. She could tell in his tone that he wasn't as enthused as she was.

"You're bored."

"I'm not bored," he argued, as he put a smile on his face. "It's just...it's all the same thing."

Charlotte grinned and went to his side, before looking up at the creatures swimming above them. "Bruce, this is the closest you can be to being underwater with sharks and rays without actually being underwater." She shrugged. "I think it's cool."

"So, you'd go swimming with sharks?!"

"Hell, no! I was just saying that it would be cool to be that close. I'd never do it." She paused for a moment. "How about you? I'm sure you've done some crazy stuff in your life."

He shrugged.

"Nothing like swimming with sharks though," Bruce admitted.

"Well, you can put it on your bucket list," Charlotte suggested.

Bruce grinned. "Maybe I will."

"I'd love to go snorkelling or diving near a reef again someday," Charlotte said smiling, while looking up as a shark swam over the top of the tunnel above their heads.

Bruce turned to her. "I didn't know that you've gone before. Was it during your time in Europe?"

She shook her head, the smile fading from her face.

"I was 8 or 9," Charlotte replied. "The only reason I somewhat remember is because my grandma came along with us and she had photo's of myself with my Dad on the beach in the Cayman's wearing diving masks on our face and holding fins and snorkels."

It wasn't often that she spoke of her parents. Bruce couldn't remember the last time he had heard her refer to them at all. He had never heard her speak of the car accident. Then again, he had never spoken about the night his parents were murdered either. Yet both of them were aware of the events that had led to the other becoming an orphan.

"Well, if you'd like, we can make a trip down south someday so we can go snorkelling," Bruce said, taking Charlotte's hand. "And then I'll be there to hold your hand while we swim with sharks."

Charlotte let out a mock laugh. "Good one. You're doing that one alone."

She caught his eye as he watched her and uncomfortably, they dropped their hands to their sides.

As they made their way out from the tunnels, the soft glow of a black light illuminated the whiteness of Bruce's dress shirt, their teeth and the white design on Charlotte's shirt. It was all for the large tank of jellyfish. Charlotte walked up to the tank, seeing the many sizes of jellyfish move through the tank.

"Come on, Bruce," Charlotte said, looking back at him. "You can't say that you don't find these things beautiful. I mean, they are so delicate and unique and at the same time, they can be deadly."

Bruce walked up beside her, his shoulder brushing hers as they watched the gelatinous creatures move through the large tank.

There was something about being so close to Bruce, in the darkness of the room and alone that suddenly caused Charlotte's heart to thunder in her chest. Why didn't she feel this at home? She could smell that cologne and even stole a glance at his face as he leaned in look at the jellyfish.

She found herself appreciating that he was a work of art. God spared no expense when it came to Bruce Wayne.

Not willing to let him catch her staring for fear that he could hear her heart beating wildly, Charlotte quickly turned and made her way towards another tank in the room. Instead, she felt someone gently grab ahold of her arm, causing her to stop. Charlotte turned, finding Bruce held her arm.

She glanced at his hand, seeing those deft fingers and remembered how they once felt against her skin, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. Charlotte met his eyes as he gently slid his hand down her arm to her hand. She curled her fingers against his palm for a moment before entwining her fingers with his, causing a chill to run down Bruce's spine. It was happening again. The one woman who knew how to ensnare Bruce's heart was doing it again. He had long believed that after Rachel, that he would never feel what he felt for her again. Again, Charlotte surprised him.

"Where are you going?" Bruce finally asked, his throat unusually dry.

"To look at the tank over here," Charlotte replied, equally hoarse.

Charlotte assumed that it should be impossible to still have feelings for someone after being apart for so long. She thought she had buried deep enough, under the pain. IT seemed that Bruce was digging his way back in and no amount of her putting up walls was enough to keep him out. He always knew how to break through them and he was doing it again.

Bruce took a tentative step forward and all Charlotte wanted to do was run away. Her mind screamed at her, reminding her of the pain that he had caused. But Bruce held onto her hand as he closed the space between them.

"Excuse me?"

Charlotte let go of Bruce's hand and they both turned to see the young woman employed by the aquarium by the door. She was completely oblivious to what she just narrowly interrupted.

"Mister Wayne, I'm sorry but the building is closing in a few minutes."

Charlotte couldn't help but grin as Bruce smiled at the situation. He held out his arm towards her which Charlotte took before they left the room and then the building itself.

* * *

The ride home in Bruce's Lamborghini was silent for the most part. Charlotte had no idea how tired she was until she was simply sitting, doing nothing. It had been days since she had a decent sleep let alone have the chance to do nothing. But now, sleep was the last thing that she wanted to do. Her mind took the time to replay what had almost occurred inside the aquarium. Was she imagining it?

She looked over at Bruce, trying her best to avoid his eyes, his mouth...his face in general. She soon found that it wasn't an easy task. His mouth was set in a frown, one that he often did when he was contemplating something. She could remember how they felt against her lips and on her neck and the way that his hair felt beneath her fingers.

Feeling her eyes on him, he quickly glanced over at Charlotte who suddenly spoke to break the silence and to cover her embarrassment at being caught looking at him.

"Bruce, I had a good time tonight. Thank you for taking me with you," she said, turning to look out the front windshield as Bruce drove through the near empty city streets.

"I'm glad that you agreed to come with me," Bruce said, as he drove. "I can imagine that it would be lonely going alone."

"Well, if you are ever needing company for something like that again, I'd be happy to go with you."

Bruce grinned. "I'll be certain to ask you then."

Silence once again filled the car.

Bruce stole a quick glance at Charlotte as she looked out the passenger side window. He had to inwardly reprimand himself for the thoughts and feelings that were running through him. Before he turned his eyes back to the road, he caught her biting her bottom lip between her teeth. It was the least seductive thing she could do and she wasn't even doing it on purpose. For all he knew, she was in deep thought but it was enough to cause him to feel a warmth creep up from his chest. He found himself turning on the A/C within the car.

It certainly didn't take any body contact to heat things up.

As soon as the car pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, Charlotte had the door open. Quickly, she picked up her purse from the floor and turned to Bruce.

"Thanks again, Bruce," she told him, eager to remove herself from the uncomfortable silence and unspoken sexual tension. Just as she was about to shut the door, Bruce turned towards the front door of the house, remembering the events from the last time he dropped her off. He quickly pushed open his door and stepped out.

"Let me walk you to the door," he said, as Charlotte shook her head and smiled somewhat nervously. "And before you refuse again, I'm insisting."

He walked up beside her and together they made their way up to the front door without speaking another word.

Bruce waited as Charlotte unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm system.

"Looks like it'll be an uneventful night here," she said softly as she turned, causing Bruce to smile and lightly chuckle.

"That's good." He paused for a moment. "If you ever need help translating documents, let me know."

Charlotte smiled. "I will."

Both of them stood on the porch, as that uncomfortable and slightly awkward silence crept back around them. Charlotte reached forward and took Bruce's hand, never once breaking eye contact with him. Bruce took a step forward and touched her cheek with his free hand before leaning in towards her.

Charlotte closed her eyes in silent anticipation. She felt her heart leap when his lips touched her own. He gave her a quick, chaste kiss and opened his eyes, meeting hers once again as a smile came to Charlotte's lips.

Getting the unspoken affirmation from Charlotte, Bruce grinned and leaned in once more. This time, he felt Charlotte wrap her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer to her, instantly deepening the kiss, each second becoming more feverish than the last. When Bruce felt Charlotte's hands at his tie as she blindly tried to loosen it, he reached past her for the door knob to the house and put his arm around Charlotte, backing her into the house. He heard her actually giggle against his mouth as she used her foot to close the door behind him, slamming it loudly.

Bruce had kissed Charlotte before, but this was entirely new. They had grown and matured, each knowing what they wanted and quickly learned what the other was wanting in return. It wasn't a moment of lust or unresolved passion. It was completely different. Bruce didn't want to put a name to it; this was dangerous enough, for him as Batman and for Charlotte.

So, when he suddenly felt his phone in his pant pocket begin to vibrate, a part of him was happy for the interruption; a very small part of him.

Charlotte was so close to Bruce that she felt the vibration and slowly broke the kiss when it seemed that Bruce wasn't about to.

"Bruce," she whispered, looking at his swollen lips. "I think your phone is vibrating."

"It is," he replied, breathlessly.

"It's late at night," Charlotte pointed out. "Maybe it's important."

Bruce smiled curtly before reaching for his phone. The smile faded when he recognized the number. Gordon.

Charlotte smiled weakly, watching his face. "You need to go?"

He nodded as he sighed, frustrated. "I need to go."

"That's all right," Charlotte said, ignoring the ache in her body, knowing that it wasn't all right. In all honesty, she wanted to take him upstairs with her.

She had no idea how much of an inward battle Bruce was having at that moment. He looked up Charlotte, seeing the result of his hands in her hair and the redness of her lips from his day-old stubble. His body and mind were screaming at him to stay with her but he had obligations, which Charlotte wouldn't understand.

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

A smile grew on Charlotte's face as she nodded. "Of course."

"Good," Bruce said, smiling before giving her one more quick kiss. He opened the door and closed it behind him, knowing he would have a harder time leaving if he prolonged the goodbye. He quickly made his way down the stone steps as he put the phone to his ear, waiting to hear the message that Gordon left him. As he climbed into the Lamborghini he heard Gordon's voice from the message.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

After Bruce had left, Charlotte locked up the house and headed upstairs to bed. She had to admit that this day had to have been the best day that she had all week. For a moment, she actually forgot about Porter Investments, Batman and her grandmothers death and enjoyed herself at the aquarium. It was just what she was needing.

She never expected it to end the way that it did.

As she turned off the lights and laid down in bed, she soon remembered why she had been having trouble sleeping at night. Her mind and imagination wouldn't turn itself off. Every sound she heard within the house caused her heart to beat rapidly. If she did fall asleep, she knew that it wouldn't be for long. Nightmares had been plaguing her sleep all week. Even having something as pleasant as Bruce Wayne to think about wasn't helping.

After another minute, she sighed and sat up, pushing the blankets off of herself before making her way out of the room and then down the stairs. She turned on the light to the dining room, seeing the table organized with file folders and documents. Charlotte opened up one of the files and sat down, figuring that if she's awake, she may as well do something constructive. Knowing that it wouldn't be long before she made it through the remaining files, she stood up and went to find her keys and purse.

She made a quick decision to run into the city and go to Porter Industries to pick up the remaining boxes from the office. Being so late at night, the only people there would be security personnel.

Before long, Charlotte was puling onto the road and heading towards downtown Gotham. What she didn't notice was a car following.


End file.
